


Yennaia are lockdown messes

by tissaias_piglet



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Domestic Abuse (Past), Everyone is writing lockdown fics right?, F/F, First Kiss, Sex Toys, Small fires, Tissaia and Yennefer in lockdown, Tissaia is a control freak and is not coping, Yennefer is a disaster woman, Yennefer is scandalising Tissaia, okay there are a lot of feels, slow burn - I think?, slow burn unrelated to the small fires, there are some feels and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tissaias_piglet/pseuds/tissaias_piglet
Summary: She had only offered Yennefer a place to stay for a few days while her landlord sorted out water damage in her flat, but what she'd envisioned as a few days had quickly turned into a week, and then two, and then suddenly the government had announced a national fucking lockdown.Yennaia are in lockdown together. You can probably imagine what happens next.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 239
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

Tissaia was absolutely never being nice to anyone ever again. She had only offered Yennefer a place to stay for a few days while her landlord sorted out the water damage in her flat caused by the asshat upstairs getting stoned and falling asleep in the bath with the tap still running. But what she'd envisioned as a few days had quickly turned into a week, and then two, and then suddenly the government had announced a national fucking lockdown. That meant the work on Yennefer's flat had to stop. And because Yennefer was about as far from a responsible adult as it was possible to get, with no savings and no prospect of employment for months – because who needed a freelance DJ when all the pubs and clubs were closed? – she had nowhere to go and no money to get herself a short term rental.

So Yennefer was stuck in Tissaia's flat.

Well, more accurately, she and Tissaia were both stuck in Tissaia's flat, save for when they took their daily government-mandated walk ( _separately_ ). And also when Tissaia went out to buy groceries, because only one person per household was allowed into the supermarket, and Tissaia knew that allowing Yennefer to be in charge of the shopping would most likely result in them having to live off spaghetti hoops on toast and tinned custard for a week. Because of course that was Yennefer's idea of being sensible about the shopping… Although even then she couldn't be dissuaded from buying food which was made up of more food colouring than actual nutrition.

The first few days had been...manageable. As much as Tissaia was loath to admit it, it had been nice to have someone in the flat with her. Not that she, in truth, really saw that much of her. Yennefer's job (which Tissaia refused to call a real adult job, because honestly anyone could queue up songs to play one after another; even _she_ had mastered Spotify playlists, and she was the original technophobe) meant she was out all night and asleep all day, and that suited Tissaia. It was nice not to have to fight over things like who needed the shower first in the morning.

But it was also nice to have a little human interaction. Yennefer seemed happy to eat with Tissaia in the evening, even if that meant her huge plate of lasagne or chicken and roasted vegetables was technically breakfast. And it was mesmerising to see exhausted, makeup-free Yennefer drag herself to the dinner table, devour her food so fast that she might as well have put her head back and tipped the contents of the plate into her mouth in one go, before disappearing back to her bedroom, re-emerging two hours later looking like some kind of glam rock goddess, backcombed hair adding a foot to her height and smeared with enough glitter to sink a small ship.

And if Tissaia sometimes went into the bathroom after Yennefer had showered and saw that she'd drawn a heart in the condensation on the mirror, and it made Tisssia's own heart skip a beat, well that was her business.

So yeah, the first few days had been manageable. And then Yennefer seemed to forget that she was actually living in someone else's flat, for free, and started to, quite frankly, take the piss a bit. Not that Tissaia would ever use an expression like that. All of a sudden an alarming amount of space in Tissaia's fridge was being taken up by bottles and cans of alcohol, and Yennefer was forgetting to be quiet when she staggered in at 5am. And then there was the small matter of Yennefer bringing someone back to the flat and having very wild, very loud sex with them all weekend while Tissaia was trying her best to sleep off an extraordinarily bad migraine.

It was that very indiscretion which Tissaia had been steeling herself to bring up with Yennefer when they suddenly discovered they were going to be forced to start spending a lot more time with each other. At least the lockdown meant no more of Yennefer bringing random people back to the flat for marathon sex weekends, although it also meant that no one had the time or money for huge PR campaigns, so Tissaia was about to find herself spending some very, very long days stuck at home with absolutely no work to take her mind off the situation.

She had no idea how she was going to cope being stuck with Yennefer 24 hours a day, indefinitely.

When all of the madness was over, Tissaia was absolutely marching right up to Philippa Eilhart and telling her that never, ever, as long as she lived, was she doing her another favour. Because it was all Philippa's bloody fault that Yennefer was there. It was Philippa and her beautiful, depthless dark eyes, and her sexy smirk, and the infuriatingly hot way she bit her full lower lip when she was thinking about something (which was definitely put on and in no way natural), combined with the fact that Tissaia hadn't been fucked in a really long time. And Philippa knew that and had used her shameless seductiveness to her own advantage, the little demon.

“Hey Tissaia!”

Yennefer entered the kitchen in a cloud of perfume, flopped down in a chair, rested her feet on another one, and grinned at her. Tissaia was sure her eye was twitching with annoyance about the whole feet-on-chair situation. She was also sure her migraines were getting worse with Yennefer around. Whether it was the stress or the perfume or the fact that she turned on every fucking light in the flat and then _left them on_ , or some of the hundreds of other utterly infuriating things she did, Tissaia didn't know. It didn't really matter. She just knew that she needed to set some ground rules if they were both going to survive unharmed.

Hopefully one of those rules was that Yennefer would go back to sleeping all day and stop bothering her.

Yennefer was still smiling at her expectantly, and Tissaia had to resist the urge to clench her fists. Oh no no no no no no no no _no_. Was Yennefer really sat there waiting for breakfast to be placed down in front of her like she was at a fucking restaurant?

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, a little more coldly than she meant to.

Yennefer frowned, and slipped her hand up her top to lightly scratch at her stomach, exposing an expanse of soft, caramel skin, which Tissaia definitely wasn't at all mesmerised by. (And also slightly worried because it really looked like Yennefer was seriously malnourished.)

“I kind of figured you'd be making breakfast?”

Tissaia was taken by the sudden, crazy urge to toss a plate at the wall, just to show Yennefer that she wasn't fucking impressed with her behaviour, not that it would really achieve anything apart from breaking a perfectly good plate. Not to mention she'd have to get on her knees to clean up the pieces, and Yennefer absolutely seemed like the sort of person who would make an unnecessarily filthy comment about that. She hadn't quite figured out yet whether Yennefer was into men or women or both, but she could quite imagine that Yennefer was going to become unbearably sexually frustrated very quickly. And if that led to a little harmless flirting which distracted her from how annoying the younger woman was, well, she was prepared to accept that as a compromise. But not because she would actually enjoy it. Obviously.


	2. Chapter 2

_Nothing to worry about but I may have singed the duvet a little bit by forgetting I left my hair straighteners turned on. No biggie. I'll pay you back for it once I actually have some income xx_

Tissaia practically leapt off the sofa, as though she was the one who'd been burned, and was hammering on Yennefer's bedroom door within seconds of receiving the message. “Yennefer, what by all the gods have you done to my bed linen?” she cried, a tiny part of her knowing that she was overreacting, but as Yennefer tended to overreact to everything, it was hardly a surprise that she’d picked up some bad habits from her.

Yennefer opened the door the smallest amount she possibly could, and craned her neck around it. “Hey Tissaia,” she said sheepishly, and even though the door was barely open, the scent of something burning was overwhelming. “I promise, it’s nothing, it’s really n-”

Anger surged inside Tissaia, and she pushed the door hard, making Yennefer stumble backwards and allowing her inside the room. Her mouth fell open in a way which could have been comical if she hadn’t been so damn furious. Yennefer’s idea of ‘nothing’ was a huge, smouldering burn on her duvet, the kind which could easily have turned into a fire which gutted the entire apartment.

Her legs went weak, and she reached out for the dressing table chair to steady herself. “What have you done?” she asked, her trembling voice barely above a whisper, embarrassed to realise that she was close to tears. It was like living with an irresponsible teenager, but worse, because Yennefer wasn’t her _fucking_ responsibility.

The smell of burning was beginning to irritate her eyes, and she let go of the chair so she could walk shakily over to open the window. “I assume you realised that eventually I’d be able to smell the burning, and you deigned to explain what was going on before I completely panicked?” Tissaia asked when she turned back, and was somewhat gratified to see that Yennefer looked suitably shame-faced.

But something was nagging at her, and she needed the answer as surely as she also knew she didn’t want to hear it. “Yennefer, why did the smoke alarm not go off?”

Yennefer looked utterly devastated. She opened her mouth and closed it again, evidently thinking better of trying to lie. “I’m really sorry Tissaia,” she breathed, and visibly steeled herself to offer the explanation, as though she was an errant schoolgirl and Tissaia her headmistress. “I took the battery out because I wanted to smoke and I was worried it would wake you up in the middle of the night.”

Tissaia would never have imagined Yennefer capable of getting emotional about anything which actually mattered, but there were tears glistening in her eyes. She seemed genuinely upset, and not just because she’d been found out, but what did Tissaia know about her, really? Maybe she was just a really good actress? Maybe, like Philippa, she was adept at manipulating people. It would explain why they were friends, after all. “Tissaia, I-“ she began, and Tissaia help up one hand, cutting her off.

“Don’t, Yennefer,” she said wearily, “just don’t.” The colour visibly drained from Yennefer’s face, as though she was finally realising how much she’d messed everything up and was preparing to beg for forgiveness. She took a deep breath to steady her voice before she continued. “I’ve tried, gods, so hard, to make this work, but it’s not. It isn’t just this one thing, but it’s the last straw, Yennefer. I need you to find somewhere else to stay.”

The sight of Yennefer’s lower lip trembling hit her like a physical blow. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t _really_ want Yennefer to go, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of living with someone who put them both in danger by doing stupid things like leaving burning hot straighteners on cotton bedclothes, and disabling smoke alarms just to be able to smoke inside.

And that was, in fact, another thing – her landlord would be beyond livid if he found out anyone had been smoking in the apartment. Her hands went cold, and her heart leapt into her throat. The fear of having to deal with that was more than enough to eclipse the regret she felt at having upset Yennefer. Tissaia did not do well with conflict, and she did even less well with the idea of conflict with someone who, firstly, was in possession of her not-unsubstantial security deposit, and secondly, had a key to her apartment for fuck’s sake.

A single, crystal tear slid down Yennefer’s cheek. Of course she even cried beautifully. Tissaia, who cried with red eyes and running nose and blotchy skin, didn’t approve. But still, it hurt her in a way she couldn’t really explain to see Yennefer crying. It was almost as though she liked having company in her cold, empty apartment, someone who drew hearts on the fogged up bathroom mirror after a shower, and occasionally used her single daily government-sanctioned walk to go to the shop and buy waffles, chocolate sauce, and a ridiculous assortment of sweets and marshmallows for ‘dinner’. Perhaps almost as though she actually liked Yennefer.

And while she could subdue her control-freakery enough to cope with Yennefer’s habit of using a new sponge every time she washed the dishes, and always managing to leave her wet towel on the floor instead of on the heated towel rail, she couldn’t live with someone she didn’t feel safe with.

Another tear ran down Yennefer’s cheek, and she sniffed hard. Tissaia pressed her lips together, then spoke before she could feel any more sorry for Yennefer and change her mind. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “but I’ve made my decision. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry Yennefer.”


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Tissaia had replaced the battery in the smoke alarm, triple checked that it worked, found Yennefer some new bed linen, and helped her to strip and remake the bed – dear gods, the woman didn’t even know how to change her own bedclothes? – she was exhausted. It was barely 10am, and she felt as though she’d already run a marathon. Not that Tissaia knew how it felt to run a marathon, but she suspected the exhaustion afterwards was something similar to what she was feeling.

Still, she felt as though she needed to have actually achieved something before lunch, and making Yennefer’s bed for her, as painful and time-consuming as it had been, definitely didn’t count. So before she could stop herself, she pulled on her trainers and left, closing the door loudly behind her, in lieu of actually having to speak to Yennefer. She didn’t think she could see that wounded puppy look again without giving in and telling her she could stay.

That would be very, very bad, because Yennefer was definitely going to end up causing one or both of them to be burned to death if she stayed. And Tissaia had no intention of burning to death, especially not as a direct result of asking Yennefer to stay with her because she was pathetically lonely. Even if it was really nice to smell someone’s perfume in the house instead of just her own medicated shampoo. Even if there were moments when they sat together and talked like they’d known each other for years. Even if, in spite of her ridiculous, infuriating habits, Tissaia felt more comfortable with Yennefer than she had done with anyone for a very long time.

She tried to focus on the sound and feeling of her feet hitting the pavement, and not wondering where Yennefer would go. Philippa would have to take her in, or… well, she supposed there were a Mr and Mrs Vengerberg, parents of the incorrigible Yennefer, somewhere. It shouldn’t – _didn’t_ – matter to her, because Yennefer was not her ward, or in any way her responsibility. Everything would have been fine if she’d just had some damn respect.

Tissaia hadn’t been paying any attention to where she was going, and when her feet stopped almost of their own accord, it took her by surprise. Forgoing her usual route completely, she’d somehow managed to walk to the place which had been her own tiny patch of paradise and refuge when she was a teenager. It was nothing more than a shallow pond surrounded on all sides by a thick, unkempt ring of trees, but the moment the sunlight began to filter through the trees, Tissaia felt an overwhelming peace.

The trees whispered their secrets softly, the surface of the water sighed with gentle, shimmering ripples, barely disturbed by a duck or a breath of wind, tall grass danced rhythmically. She sat down on a large rock close to the edge of the water, brushing her hair out of her eyes and turning her face upwards towards the thick canopy above. The branches swayed, leaves fracturing the sunlight, dappling the ground. It was unseasonably warm, but not uncomfortable, and Tissaia fleetingly wondered whether she could just abandon her apartment and build a cabin in the woods, away from everyone, including the twenty-something-year-old disaster who appeared to have somehow wormed her way into Tissaia’s heart.

She shook her head and looked around, embarrassed, as though anyone passing by would have heard her ridiculous thoughts. But of course, there was no one around. She closed her eyes. She was alone, blissfully alone with the sound of birdsong and rustling leaves, the sunlight on her face and the wind gently lifting her hair and caressing the back of her neck. For the first time in weeks, months, Tissaia felt truly glad to be alive.

“Tissaia de Vries, you are not an easy woman to find!”

Tissaia’s eyes flew open, and she turned around so quickly she almost fell off the rock she was sat on. Yennefer was picking her way through the tall grass, and although she was fleet-footed and graceful, every step closer felt like an intruder crashing noisily into Tissaia’s sanctuary. She didn’t know how Yennefer had found her, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was something to do with her phone, and she resisted the urge to frisbee it into the pond.

“What are you doing here?” Tissaia asked, trying her hardest not to sound accusatory. Even to her own ears, she failed miserably.

Yennefer sat down a few rocks away. “I…” she began slowly, giggling softly as a duck made an undignified reentry to the water, swaying like a plane in turbulence as it flew, almost colliding with another duck when it landed. Tissaia was surprised to find herself smiling too. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Yennefer said shyly.

“Try me,” Tissaia encouraged. Seeing Yennefer like this was strange. She looked different. Perhaps Tissaia was just used to seeing her beneath artificial light, but out here, with the sunlight on her, Yennefer looked softer, warmer. She looked calmer too, and Tissaia could feel herself being drawn in once again by Yennefer’s magnetic presence.

Brushing a lock of hair back from her face, Yennefer looked intently at the glimmering water. “I used to come here when I was younger. It was somewhere I could be safe and alone.” She glanced at Tissaia. “I came out after you, but I didn’t know where you’d gone. I looked around for a while but I couldn’t find you.” A duck waddled past close to her feet, and she reached out to try and pet it. It dodged her hand and she smiled ruefully. Tissaia half expected her to make an overdramatic comment about how the duck was running away just like everyone else in her life, but she didn’t. “I came here to just be quiet and think. I had no idea this is where you’d be.”

Tissaia bit her lip. Talking about herself was desperately uncomfortable, but even though she’d left the apartment to calm down after realising she didn’t feel safe with Yennefer, she somehow felt safe talking to her. And part of her wondered whether talking might be what she needed to help begin to heal the wounds. She didn’t believe in magic, because she was a grown woman for fuck’s sake, but she felt that if magic _was_ possible, it would happen there in the place which was special to both of them. Or, she chided herself, the more likely explanation was that she and Yennefer would talk things over and learn how to be slightly better people around each other.

“It used to be my hideaway too,” Tissaia said quietly, reluctant to disturb the tranquillity. “I used to come here when I was a teenager, when school had been rough, or it was too much to be in the house with my parents arguing.” Yennefer’s head snapped up, and Tissaia supposed the younger woman had assumed her upbringing had been stable, moneyed, sheltered, and kind. It had been none of those things, especially kind. She wondered whether Yennefer’s had been similar, which would explain why staying with her parents hadn’t been a viable option.

“I can’t believe they haven’t built houses here,” she said after a few more seconds had passed, changing the subject because she could hardly bear the way Yennefer was looking at her, as though she could see into her soul. It felt as though someone was pawing through her thoughts and memories, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. But still, the one small bonus was that in the soft light, Yennefer’s eyes appeared almost purple. It was strange that she’d never noticed that before. They were mesmerising, and even more so when they were emphasised with the slightest flick of eyeliner along Yennefer’s own naturally dark, thick lashes. She wondered whether she’d secretly always known that she wouldn’t really make Yennefer leave.

“Okay,” Yennefer said suddenly, shaking Tissaia out of her reverie, and with the air of having made a difficult decision, “I’ll go first.” She grabbed a tall blade of grass and slowly shredded it with her strong fingers. “I’m really sorry for not respecting your home and your possessions. I’m sorry about what I did to your duvet. I’m sorry about trying to smoke out of the bedroom window. Most of all I’m sorry for doing anything which might have put you and your flat at risk. I didn’t realise how stupid that was.”

Tissaia gave her a watery smile and reached out to touch Yennefer’s arm gently, realising too late that they weren’t close enough to do that, and letting her hand fall back with some regret. “I’m sorry for being a control freak, and cold, and solitary, and generally hard to live with,” she apologised in turn, trying hard to meet Yennefer’s eyes and communicate the same amount of sincerity. She thought for a moment, before making a decision she’d perhaps known all along that she would make. “You don’t have to leave, Yennefer.”

Yennefer stood up, and came and sat beside her on her rock. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I promise I’m going to try much harder.” Her thigh pressed lightly against Tissaia’s, and for a moment Tissaia lost all her words. In all of the stress about Yennefer being irresponsible, she’d somehow managed to forget the rather pressing issue of her inappropriate – and growing – crush on her disaster of a new flatmate. Oh, fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

The last thing Tissaia expected to see when she walked into the kitchen was a literal rainbow of dildos (red, yellow, green, blue, pink, and purple, not that she was paying any attention) on the draining rack next to last night’s dinner dishes. Although, she reminded herself, she was living with Yennefer now, so she should probably learn to expect exactly that kind of thing.

It didn’t make it any better though. It wasn’t as though she was a prude about sex stuff (not exactly anyway), but she still wasn’t comfortable with anyone knowing that she touched herself, let alone making a public display of how she did it.

“Hey,” Yennefer greeted her, as though there was nothing inappropriate about the situation at all. She looked genuinely cheerful, and not in the slightest bit like she thought her behaviour might be considered a little bit, well, exhibitionist.

Tissaia was overwhelmed by the sudden, horrifying idea that one day she might walk in to find Yennefer touching herself in full view on the sofa. That would, without doubt, be the worst thing that could possibly happen to her, for reasons of being embarrassed, and having to get her entire sofa deep cleaned, and _not_ because Yennefer might invite her to join in and _definitely not_ because Tissaia might want to say yes.

It was way too early to have a migraine coming on, but that was nevertheless exactly what she felt. And even if she could drag her mind out of the gutter, there was still the pressing issue of Yennefer’s...collection...being right there in her kitchen. “Why are there sex toys on the draining rack?” Tissaia asked. Did she really have to spell out to Yennefer why it wasn’t appropriate?

It appeared she did, because Yennefer smiled blithely and answered, “because I washed them.”

Well, she’d probably asked for that answer. All she wanted was to sit down, ingest as much caffeine as possible in as short a time as possible, leave the kitchen, and try hard to forget what she'd seen. And also the smutty thoughts which she couldn’t seem to get rid of. But something else even more pressing was nagging at her, and she was voicing it before she could stop herself. “Six dildos? How did you use six dildos in one go?”

Yennefer focussed on what seemed to be a world record attempt to eat a bowl of cornflakes in the fastest time ever, clearly thinking it was best to just keep quiet with that particular explanation.

Tissaia, on the other hand, had no plans to let the subject drop. If Yennefer thought it was fine to leave her sex toys out for all to see, what else would she start thinking Tissaia approved of? “Why did you have to leave them there next to the clean dishes?”

“That’s where things go when they’ve been washed. Would you rather I stopped washing the dishes?”

Oh yes, there was definitely a migraine in Tissaia’s not too distant future. It was like talking to a child sometimes. “You know that’s not what I was getting at Yennefer.” Morbid curiosity overtook her, and once again she had asked the question before she could stop herself speaking. “Why is one of them smaller?” She desperately needed to get control of her mouth. Or maybe just gag herself, which was something she had a suspicion that Yennefer would be only too pleased to help her out with.

Yennefer smiled, shaking her head a little. She finished up her cornflakes and turned to a wine glass of orange juice so huge it might as well have been a fish bowl. At least, she supposed it was just orange juice, but it wouldn’t be even remotely surprising to her to know that Yennefer had adulterated her orange juice with vodka at 9am.

Perversely, Yennefer's refusal to explain made Tissaia want to know even more. “What?” she pressed, even though she knew the moment the words were out that she would regret it.

Yennefer looked embarrassed, which wasn't something Tissaia had ever imagined was even possible, and slammed down her glass hard enough that orange juice slopped out onto the table. “For fuck’s sake Tissaia,” she snapped, “it goes _somewhere else_ okay?”

The horrifying truth dawned on her, and Tissaia made a noise she didn’t know could actually come from a human. “Get it away from my dishes!!” she almost shrieked, and Yennefer leapt up so fast that she almost overturned the table. More orange juice stained the table cloth.

“They’re clean!” Yennefer shrieked back, never one to pass up some melodrama. Tissaia sat down heavily, rubbing her forehead, as Yennefer turned to the sink, clattering dishes obnoxiously as she – presumably – picked up the toys.

“You know, if you’ve got a migraine coming on, getting yourself off is supposed to be great for helping with pain,” Yennefer began conversationally, as though they were totally accustomed to discussing these kinds of things, and Tissaia wondered whether sticking her fingers in her ears would be too childish. And also whether there was something she could do to wash her mind out with soap, to stop herself thinking continually about how those toys might be used again. Yennefer turned around with her arms full of dildos, like she was cradling babies, and in fact her affectionate expression suggested something similar. “Hey, if you’re going to get off, do you want to borrow one of my toys?” she asked brightly, “they’re clean!”

Tissaia shuddered. Or shivered. She couldn’t really tell whether it was in disgust or interest at the idea. But of course it was typical of Yennefer to one, suggest something filthy, and two, assume that Tissaia’s fingers weren’t up to the job. Oh, and three, assume that Tissaia was too innocent and/or prudish to have sex toys of her own. More irritatingly, that last one was true. Well, the not having any toys part. She didn’t consider herself innocent or prudish, she just didn’t have a particularly high sex drive. Or she hadn’t in the past, anyway. For some reason that had changed in the last few days, which was unexpected, and definitely nothing to do with Yennefer’s continued presence in her apartment.

She realised that Yennefer was staring at her, waiting for a response. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been debating things in her head, but it would definitely have been interpreted as her seriously considering the loan of a sex toy. Fuck. “Please get yourself and those...things...out of my kitchen,” Tissaia said wearily.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos, and commented so far! Especially the people who have commented, they are giving me life :)

“Tissaia? Can I ask you something?” Yennefer began, twirling spaghetti around her fork. As someone who couldn’t bear the sound of others eating, Yennefer insisted on talking while they ate, as rude as that was. But considering the inappropriateness of her first two suggestions – having music on, or eating off their laps in the living room with the TV on – Tissaia considered it the lesser of three evils.

“Yes...?” she said, somewhat apprehensively, frowning as she fought with her own spaghetti. Despite approaching 40, she’d never properly got the hang of getting it onto her fork without it falling off again and making a mess. She could feel Yennefer watching her, probably with a silly, affectionate – no, patronising – smile. She somewhat thought that Yennefer only ever offered to cook when she wanted a laugh over Tissaia’s inability to eat spaghetti, because it was the only thing she could cook. “Go on,” Tissaia encouraged, to prevent any more staring, realising too late that she had far too much pasta on her fork.

“What’s it like being an adult?” Yennefer asked thoughtfully.

Tissaia choked hard, and only partly because there was too much food in her mouth. Yennefer _was_ an adult, wasn’t she? _Wasn’t she_? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. The last thing she needed while trying to deal with her ridiculous crush was to find out that Yennefer was younger than she’d thought.

No, she was being really stupid. Of course Yennefer was an adult. She was a club DJ, that meant she definitely had to be.

Tissaia swallowed hard, took a sip of water, choked on that too, took another sip, swallowed it without almost dying, and finally began to think about how to respond to the question. “You _are_ an adult,” she said pointedly, “unless Philippa lied to me, which in hindsight, one should always assume is the case.” Actually, Philippa had said no such thing, but neglecting to tell Tissaia that her temporary flat-mate was under the age of 18 would definitely have counted as a lie of omission.

“I know that!” Yennefer said, with a hint of impatience, “I’m 25, of course I’m an adult.” Tissaia’s heart fluttered with relief. “What I meant was...” She put down her cutlery, her meal finished, and ran her finger around the inside of the bowl to collect up the remaining sauce. She sucked her finger into her mouth, and continued talking, before realising – presuming from Tissaia’s confused expression – that her words were unintelligible. She removed her finger, and wiped it on her jeans.

“You’re so... _sensible_ ,” she said after a minute, with a strange note of longing in her voice. “You know about the importance of having a battery in your smoke alarm, and you...drink your wine slowly, and remember to clean your bathroom, and...” Her voice trailed off, and she looked slightly lost.

It was becoming clear that although Yennefer tried to paint herself as a carefree party girl, there were insecurities hiding close to the surface. It wasn’t a surprise to Tissaia that Yennefer had worries, because it was unrealistic to imagine there was a single person alive who didn’t worry about something, but it _was_ surprising to see that Yennefer trusted her enough to voice those insecurities. Perhaps all of the younger woman’s friends were people like Philippa Eilhart, who thrived on discovering and exploiting the weaknesses of others, and if that was the case, it was hardly surprising that Yennefer usually kept her worries to herself.

Tissaia thought for a minute, still unsure of how to respond to the original question. The last thing she wanted was to be patronising, but Yennefer had asked for her help. “Don’t watch me eat,” she said lightly, for the younger woman was doing just that.

“Sorry...” Yennefer looked away sheepishly. “I’ll let you finish first.” She toyed with her hair, combing her fingers through it, another thing which made Tissaia twitch. She wanted to say ‘not at the dinner table, Yennefer’, but the last thing she wanted to do was come across like a mother scolding her child, and get Yennefer’s back up. So instead she tentatively said, “Please don’t think I’m going to give you the answers to all life’s questions.” She finished eating, and immediately took both hers and Yennefer’s bowls to the sink, leaving them to soak. She could feel Yennefer’s eyes on her, watching her ‘being an adult’ she supposed. It had been with not a small amount of horror that she’d discovered Yennefer used paper plates in her flat and almost never washed anything, just rinsing her glasses quickly under the tap before reusing them.

Tissaia sat back down at the table, crossed her legs neatly at the ankle, and looked at Yennefer. “No one wakes up one day and realises they’ve become an adult. In the eyes of the law, maybe, but are they really any more intelligent, sensible, or emotionally capable than they were the day before?”

Yennefer looked oddly emotional, and before she knew what she was doing, Tissaia had reached out across the table and taken Yennefer’s hand in hers.

“You want to be an adult because you think they have it all figured out, don’t you?” she asked gently. Yennefer nodded. “You think adults never need advice about things, never panic about whether they’re happy with the direction their life is heading in?”

Yennefer was watching her, wide-eyed, lips parted, like a child hearing a fairy story. Tissaia wished she could give the younger woman what she was so desperately hoping for. She stroked the back of Yennefer’s hand with her thumb.

“Learning how to get stains out of clothes, or what to do if you get stung by a bee, or to always keep an umbrella in your bag even if it’s sunny when you leave the house... That’s not being an adult. Anyone can learn those things, adult or not. Being an adult is no different from being a teenager, you don’t feel any more competent or like you’ve got your life together, you just stop admitting that out loud. You look at the people around you, and they seem to have it all figured out, so you’re too afraid to raise your hand and say that you don’t. But no one does. We’re all just doing our best and feeling useless for not being better adults.”

Yennefer’s wide-eyed stare was beginning to look more and more like a Disney princess blinking back tears. “Even you?” she asked in a whisper.

“Even me,” Tissaia said with a humourless laugh, “ _especially me_.” Yennefer stroked her hand, recognising the now-familiar self-deprecating tone. “The day you become an adult is the day you understand that the feeling of not knowing what you’re doing doesn’t magically go away. Knowing it and accepting it is what makes you an adult. Until then, you’re just an overgrown teenager waiting for something you’ve not yet realised will never happen.”

Fuck, that sounded depressing even to her ears. Yennefer looked halfway to distraught, and Tissaia did something she’d never have imagined herself doing. She stood up, walked around to Yennefer’s side of the table, and pulled her up into a warm, tight hug. Yennefer snuffled softly against her shoulder, but she didn’t cry, and Tissaia was thankful. The unanticipated hug, the hand holding, the advice giving, had been a lot, and although she didn’t regret it, she could feel her extroversion levels had been depleted.

“I don’t think that really worked as a reassurance, did it?” Tissaia said with a nervous laugh, catching the scent of Yennefer’s hair when she breathed in. She felt her knees go weak, and tried to remember what normal people did when comforting their friend. (Wait, Yennefer was her friend?)

She gently rubbed the younger woman’s back, and felt Yennefer sigh softly. It felt oddly natural to be embracing her like this, in the kitchen, surrounded by the detritus of an evening meal. “I didn’t mean to make it worse,” she continued, thinking with every word that she was probably making it worse still, but blundering on anyway, “I just wanted you to know you’re not the only one who feels like that.”

Yennefer pulled back, and gave her a watery smile. “I know, and I appreciate it, I do. I guess I was just hoping for something I could actually do to stop myself feeling like that.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Hey, I’ll… I’ll wash up.” She sounded almost shy, like she’d made a grand gesture and suddenly regretted it halfway through.

Yennefer was trying, Tissaia could tell. And it would be nice to have an evening off from washing up. “I’ll stay and keep you company then,” she said, trying too.


	6. Chapter 6

As a rule, Tissaia did not have nightmares, but she was most definitely having one now. She lay in the darkness, eyes open, listening for the sound which had woken her. There it was again. Yep, having a nightmare was the only possible explanation, because the alternative was that she’d been woken up by the sound of Yennefer touching herself. At 3am. And it turned out that she was only slightly quieter when touching herself than she was when having sex.

This was, without a doubt, her punishment for beginning to think that having Yennefer around might not be such a bad thing after all.

Tissaia rolled over, pulling the covers up over her head to try and block the sound out. It didn’t make even the slightest difference. She could still hear the soft, breathy whimpers, and even the tiny gasps for breath. No, she was imagining it. There was no way she’d be able to hear Yennefer’s breathing through the wall, unless she was having an asthma attack and wheezing. And she definitely wasn’t doing that.

But the whimpers. Oh gods, she could definitely hear those. And it didn’t make any difference whether her head was buried under the covers or not, so she might as well not be, and actually be able to breathe. She would just have to listen to the whimpers. No, _ignore them_. Ignore them was what she was going to do. Ignore them and try to go back to sleep like any normal person would do when they realised that their flat-mate was trying to get off.

Begrudgingly she admitted that it was polite of Yennefer to wait until a time when she thought Tissaia would be asleep, but she did somewhat ruin that thoughtfulness by being loud enough to wake her up. And worse, she had no idea that Tissaia _was_ awake, and therefore no intention of stopping, so Tissaia was stuck listening to her getting closer and closer, whimpers turning to filthy moans.

Would she stop even if she knew? It was Yennefer, so probably not. She’d probably make some inappropriate comment about helping Tissaia out by giving her something to fantasise about so she didn’t need to watch porn or use a sex toy. Not that she did either of those things anyway!

If she got up and walked to the bathroom noisily enough, Yennefer would hear her and (hopefully) stop, or perhaps if she played some music on her phone she’d be able to distract herself from the sounds enough to fall back to sleep. But if she was honest with herself – and apparently, lying in bed at 3am, embarrassingly wet and aching, made it easy to be honest with herself – she didn’t want to do either of those things. She wanted to put her hand between her own legs and touch herself. Yennefer’s noises were making her wetter than any amount of explicit thoughts had ever managed to do, and she was beginning to shift uncomfortably on the bed.

And then there was the small matter of her having recently become intimately acquainted with Yennefer’s choice in sex toys, which meant she could picture with startling clarity what Yennefer would be doing to herself right now. The idea made her throb.

She wanted to touch herself and come with Yennefer, but more than that, she wanted to listen and imagine what she could do to Yennefer to elicit those kind of noises.

Tissaia imagined covering Yennefer’s hand with her own, encouraging her to move the toy harder inside herself, and the way Yennefer would breathlessly moan her name. She would be wet, the toy would be wet, Tissaia’s fingers would be wet. Shivering, she felt an answering wetness between her own legs. Her hand was resting idly on her thigh, close enough to touch, but not yet. She was enjoying the fantasy too much.

Maybe she’d take hold of Yennefer’s wrist and stop her from doing anything, make her wait until she was almost crying with thwarted need, and then take hold of the toy herself, move it achingly slowly. It would be payback for all of the infuriating things Yennefer had done to her, including this whole highly embarrassing late night masturbating/fantasising session.

Okay, it was embarrassing, but there was no harm in it really. Everyone needed to touch themselves sometimes, and she hadn’t in what felt like months. She couldn’t make herself wait any longer. Yennefer would never know, and it might tire her out enough to get back to sleep afterwards. At least that was the excuse Tissaia used as she entered herself with three fingers, wet enough that she didn’t need any teasing whatsoever.

“Oh fuck,” she groaned, before realising that if she could hear Yennefer through the wall, Yennefer could probably hear her. She held her breath, trying to decide whether or not she’d been heard (and not, by any means, listening to Yennefer’s sweet sounds). The fear of being heard wasn’t quite enough to stop her moving her fingers though, and as she waited, listening, she rubbed her clit firmly, the way she imagined Yennefer would touch her.

Tissaia pressed her free hand over her mouth, trying to stifle any noises she might make as she pushed her fingers back inside herself. She was close, and from the way Yennefer’s ecstatic moans were rising in pitch, she was too. The last thing she wanted was to ruin the moment by being loud enough for Yennefer to hear her, have an attack of conscience, and stop touching herself.

She buried a whimper against her hand, moving her fingers faster, no longer bothering to try and tell herself that she wasn’t imagining they were Yennefer’s. It was far too late for that. She desperately wished she could use both hands, wanting to stroke her clit and imagine Yennefer’s wicked mouth being put to much better use licking her, but she couldn’t risk moving her hand from her own mouth and making too much noise.

There was a sudden, muffled scream – Yennefer must have had the politeness to bury her face in the pillow, which Tissaia was too ruined to even try and deny that she was disappointed about. Tissaia’s mind was flooded with images of how good Yennefer would look writhing on the bed as she came, wishing it was her fingers or tongue getting that reaction, and she gasped frantically as she came too, soaking her fingers.

She lay there panting for several minutes, trying to recover, hearing Yennefer pad softly to the bathroom and noting that she seemed to be doing her best to be quiet. Hopefully that meant she had no idea Tissaia was also awake, which was good, very good. Still, she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to face the younger woman in the morning, especially if she found another freshly-washed dildo on the drainer and knew exactly what it had been used for mere hours ago.

Maybe she just wouldn’t have breakfast at all, and give Yennefer the privacy to clear away her...items when they were clean. Yes, that definitely seemed like the best plan. And anyway, she was indescribably tired and felt like she could sleep for a month. If she was that exhausted just from touching herself, she could hardly imagine how much better it would be if Yennefer had fucked her. Not that she was ever going to allow that to happen. Probably.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, have a massive chapter to cover the next few weeks as I'm finding it very hard to be motivated enough to write!  
> Thank you for all the comments so far, they keep me going! :) <3

What Tissaia really wanted – and needed – was to lie down in a dark, quiet room for about a decade, and wake up to find that Yennefer was no longer living in her apartment. Because her new flat-mate had taken to spending her days lazing on the sofa in loose t-shirts and boxer shorts, exposing very long, very smooth legs, which Tissaia in no way wanted to be between.

It was a hell of a problem, not least of all because it meant Tissaia was spending a lot of time stuck in the kitchen or her bedroom, because the other option was being way closer to – let’s face it – half naked Yennefer than she could bear for long periods of time.

Admittedly, it was really good that Yennefer had proven not to be the sort of person who finished the roll of toilet paper and didn't bother to replace it, or drank directly from the orange juice carton, which would have almost certainly have pushed Tissaia into a full on breakdown. But even a breakdown wouldn't have been as inconvenient for her as the fact that she was very attracted to Yennefer. Very, very attracted. To actually quite a concerning degree.

That had been fine – sort of – when their somewhat uncomfortable flat-share arrangement was only supposed to last for a day or two. She'd promised herself that once Yennefer left, she'd never have to see her again, so it would be only slightly inappropriate to indulge the thoughts she'd been trying to ignore. But instead of getting to allow her imagination to run wild and her hand to slip beneath the bedclothes, Tissaia found herself stuck in her apartment 24/7 with the person she'd been so shamelessly planning on fantasising about.

And there was a _lot_ to fantasise about. Yennefer's utterly delicious bare legs for a start, the way her hips swung when she walked, like she knew she was an actual fucking goddess incarnate, her pouty, full lips, the entrancing way she danced when she was alone in the kitchen…

Yeah, she really needed to get off. Again and again. Doing it once hadn’t been anywhere near enough, and had actually just made her need it more, not that she was planning on having any more moments of weakness. Ever.

And anyway, Yennefer’s attractiveness didn’t take away from the fact that she could still be a massive pain in the backside. A small part of Tissaia was relieved at that, because it meant she had a slight distraction from her wholly inappropriate feelings.

“Legs,” she said wearily, vaguely indicating Yennefer's sprawled out position on the sofa as she stood in front of her, waiting to be permitted to sit down. Yennefer rolled her eyes and swung her legs off the sofa hard enough that the momentum pushed her up into a sitting position. She shifted just a little to the right, positioning herself indisputably on 'her' side of the sofa, ensuring no part of her would press against Tissaia when she sat down. Which was something Tissaia was in no way disappointed about.

She never realised she could both love and hate an inanimate object as much as she did her sofa. It had occurred to her more than a few times in the past that she ought to get more than just a single piece of furniture to sit on, but living alone it had never seemed important. And now after just a few weeks of lockdown, she and Yennefer had fallen into an alarmingly domestic routine – equal parts comfortable and uncomfortable – of sharing the sofa as they watched TV every night.

“You know you don't have to move quite so far away,” Tissaia said with a small smile, handing Yennefer a bottle of beer, “we both know that when you've had a few drinks, you'll end up lying against me like you do every night.” She wasn't sure when, but that too had become part of their nightly routine. Yennefer would slowly get more and more drunk, and her head would slowly start to drop more and more to her left, eventually coming to rest – with a surprising lack of awkwardness – on Tissaia's shoulder.

And that was nice, but what Tissaia really wanted was for Yennefer to rest those incredible legs on her lap, so she could aimlessly run her fingertips up and down them and see if they really were as smooth as they looked. She would never ask for that though, and she could hardly blame Yennefer for potentially somewhat freaking out if the idea was put forward.

“I guess you're right.” Yennefer sounded surprisingly nervous, and Tissaia realised she should really stop thinking that the younger woman wasn’t capable of shyness. Yennefer moved so that her thigh was lightly pressing against Tissaia's. Tissaia fell headlong into gay panic. Having Yennefer pressed closer to her was definitely what she'd wanted, but she hadn't considered how hard it would be to stop her breaths from hitching when it happened. She managed to cope okay without virtually panting when Yennefer drunkenly moved closer to her, so she couldn't understand what was different now. Perhaps it was the deliberate way Yennefer had moved her leg against hers.

“Is that okay?” Yennefer asked.

“Mhm.”

“You're shaking, Tissaia.”

“Am I?” She forced a smile and a bright laugh. “I mustn't have had enough wine!” As if to illustrate her point, she drained her glass – which was still three quarters full – and smiled a little lopsidedly at Yennefer.

She realised almost instantly it was a bad idea. A single glass of wine, drunk measuredly and in a mature, non-adolescent way, normally lasted her an hour or two. Now she'd made the stupid mistake of drinking it way too quickly, and she could already feel the intoxication rising. Had she always been such a lightweight? Not that it felt bad exactly, it just made her feel a little off-balance, and bolder than normal. Like if Yennefer tried flirting with her, she’d just kiss her to shut her up. Wait, no. The fact she was entertaining that thought was very, very bad. So the logical thing to do was shut the thoughts up with more alcohol, wasn’t it?

She half filled her glass again, and drank it quickly before common sense could stop her. It suddenly occurred to her that now was a great time to inform Yennefer that she didn’t approve of the absolute drivel they were watching. She grabbed the remote from its perch on Yennefer’s thigh – without running her fingers over the soft skin, because she was a respectable, non-perverted, grown up lesbian – and changed the channel.

“What are you doing?” Yennefer shrieked, “Tissaia, they’re about to get married in a church that no one knows is rigged with explosives, you can’t change the channel now!” She grabbed for the remote desperately, but Tissaia had stowed it safely down the side of the sofa, and she couldn’t find it.

The mournful sound of whale song filled the room, and Yennefer’s face fell, as though Tissaia was forcing her to watch a live execution rather than a calming, educational nature documentary which might actually teach her something. She grabbed for the remote with renewed fervour, which – not knowing where it was actually hidden – involved a lot more groping around Tissaia’s thighs than Tissaia had been prepared for.

“Stop it!” Tissaia said, actually – oh, shame, horror! – _giggling_ , because Yennefer’s touch was tickling her, “you’re not going to get it.” She knew she was only letting the ridiculousness carry on because her judgement was slightly impaired, which incidentally was also her weak explanation for what happened next.

Drawing her legs up, Tissaia turned so that she was facing Yennefer, her back against the arm of the sofa, sitting directly over where she’d stashed the remote, meaning there was no way Yennefer could get it without sliding a hand right underneath her rear end, which she thought was too much even for the younger woman.

“Ha!” Tissaia smiled, and turned serenely to watch the television, enjoying the thought of Yennefer’s reaction way more than she was going to enjoy the actual documentary. Truth be told, she didn’t give a fuck about whales – except in the vague sense of knowing that oceans filled with plastic wasn’t good for them – she’d just picked the thing she knew Yennefer was least likely to enjoy.

Turning away from Yennefer very quickly proved to be a big mistake, because the next thing Tissaia knew, there was a flurry of movement and suddenly Yennefer was straddling her lap. Oh, dear fuck. Time seemed to slow, and all Tissaia could think about was how warm every part of Yennefer’s body was. “What- what are you doing?” she asked, wetting her lips nervously. Yennefer smirked, and Tissaia desperately wanted to reach out and cup her cheek, run her thumb along Yennefer’s exquisitely full lower lip.

Breaking their intense eye-contact, Yennefer leaned in achingly slowly and let her lips just brush the shell of Tissaia’s ear. “Give it to me,” she whispered huskily, and Tissaia felt like her heart might stop. She was almost panting, her chest pressing not-uncomfortably against Yennefer’s, and oh, she wasn’t wearing a bra, Yennefer wasn’t wearing a bra, there was only a thin layer of cotton separating her from Yennefer’s breasts. They would feel so soft and heavy in her hands, nipples stiff and aching to be rubbed and teased by her thumb, maybe even taken into her mouth.

Lost in her thoughts, Tissaia almost reached out to touch Yennefer’s chest, and gasped as both of her hands were pinned to her sides. Yennefer laughed low and seductive into her ear, and fuck, that _did things_ to Tissaia. She shifted on the sofa slightly, refusing to acknowledge the ache between her legs, and heard a poorly-stifled whimper. It hadn’t occurred to her that Yennefer could possibly be enjoying it as much as she was, and the idea that the younger woman might be longing to grind against her made Tissaia’s pussy twitch.

“Give it to me,” Yennefer breathed again, a little more unsteadily, and grazed her lips, feather light, against Tissaia’s neck. Her words, no doubt carefully chosen to be up for misinterpretation, filled Tissaia’s head with images of just what she’d like to give Yennefer, starting with her own body. “Fine,” Yennefer purred smugly, and peeled herself off Tissaia’s lap without another word, settling back on her side of the sofa and calmly turning to watch the television, her face showing not even a hint of the ruination she’d inflicted upon Tissaia.

Tissaia swallowed hard, trying to get control of her breathing. Had she got it all wrong? Had she imagined Yennefer was flirting with her because she wanted it to be true? No. _No_. She had whimpered when Tissaia accidentally pressed against her, and that wasn’t something that could possibly be misread. Tissaia just needed to keep her mouth shut and not ruin things with overthinking. If something was going to happen between them, it would happen, but not if she made it awkward.

Yennefer was drinking her beer as she feigned interest in ocean creatures, and gods, Tissaia was jealous of that bottle. She was also almost painfully aroused, which wasn’t fair, since Yennefer seemed perfectly composed and not even remotely affected by their little almost-makeout session, or whatever the hell that had been. Honestly, she’d been looked at and touched less intensely by women who were actively trying to seduce her.

The only thing for it was more wine. She filled her glass to the brim, and was halfway through drinking it as quickly as she could to try and dampen the heat inside her, when she felt the alcohol hit her like a ton of bricks. It was as though she’d been permitted to enjoy all of the nice, confidence-giving effects of drinking while Yennefer was flirting with her, and now that was over, she was being punished with all the negatives. She moaned softly, unable to tell whether it was her body or the room which was swaying.

“You didn’t have to try and keep up with me, you know,” Yennefer giggled.

“I know. I'm regretting it now,” Tissaia said, her tone sheepish. She closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, her vision was slightly blurred. The alcohol had, she supposed, done its job in a way – the thought of being horny had been pushed to the back of her mind, while she concentrated on the current problem of suddenly feeling quite unwell.

“Come here.” Yennefer spoke in a surprisingly gentle voice. She slid her arm around Tissaia's shoulders, pulling her in close. It was softer and more reassuring than Tissaia would have imagined. She closed her eyes, and allowed herself to admit that having someone to live with – _this_ someone in particular – wasn’t the worst thing in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

Tissaia was sure she was dying. That was the only possible explanation for how she currently felt. Well okay, there was also a small possibility that she was hungover and had also been blessed with a migraine, which would explain why she felt even worse than usual.

There was a timid knock at her door, and even that sound made her want to crawl under the covers and stay there possibly until she suffocated and didn’t have to face the world any more. “Tissaia?” Yennefer called quietly. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t know what time it was, but if Yennefer was awake and she wasn’t, she could see why it might be a little worrying.

“I’m coming in, okay? I’m worried about you and I just need to make sure you’re alright.”

Tissaia pulled the covers a little higher, covering as much of herself as she could. She was grateful that Yennefer cared enough to check on her, and also that she wasn’t going to try and make her carry on a conversation through a closed door when she wasn’t sure she could so much as breathe without feeling like her head was going to split.

Yennefer managed to open the door surprisingly quietly and slipped inside, her face creasing in such concern that Tissaia felt acutely embarrassed. “You look like hell, Tissaia,” Yennefer murmured, which did nothing to help Tissaia’s embarrassment. It was probably true though – Yennefer had almost never seen her looking anything less than immaculate, and on the rare occasions her appearance had fallen beneath those standards, she’d at least still had freshly washed hair and actual clothes on.

“Are you hungover?” Yennefer asked, seemingly making a conscious effort to keep her voice low and quiet.

“Migraine,” Tissaia ground out, her eyes still closed. A ridiculous sense of pride prevented her from telling Yennefer that she may, in fact, also have been somewhat hungover from the relatively small amount she’d drunk.

“Oh babe, oh no, I’m so sorry,” Yennefer murmured in such an achingly sympathetic voice that Tissaia felt stupidly like she might cry. She had spent years dealing with her migraines alone, telling herself that she was fine and didn’t need anyone else’s help, not least because the thought of asking someone to come over and help her was almost intolerable. But now she had someone who was already there, and who wanted to help her without her needing to ask, and that was better, that was okay, she could almost handle that. The crying at being given sympathy had to go, though. That was unacceptable and downright shameful.

“I’m going to sit down on the bed, okay? Don’t get a fright,” Yennefer said softly, and Tissaia was struck by just how tender and caring the other woman could be when it was needed. She shifted backwards a little, giving Yennefer more room, and pressed her lips together to stifle a moan as the room dipped and swung around her even with her eyes closed.

A cool hand rested lightly on the side of her face, and Yennefer began to stroke her fingertips over Tissaia’s hair.

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm, nice,” Tissaia managed to say. She wouldn’t cry. She _wouldn’t_.

“Can I get you anything else? Water, a cold washcloth, painkillers?”

Tissaia didn’t answer. She was warily focusing on the feeling of nausea which had suddenly swept over her. It wasn’t one of the migraine side effects she usually got, which meant she had the hangover to thank for it. But anyway, regardless of the cause, the last thing she wanted was to have to ask Yennefer to move so she could dash to the bathroom. So she would just have to lie very still and will the feeling away.

Yennefer tutted softly, misinterpreting the reason for her silence, but didn’t stop stroking her hair. “Tissaia, I get that you like everyone to know you’re strong and independent, but it’s okay to accept help. I’m offering, you didn’t even have to ask for it. Let me look after you.”

Tissaia forced herself to open one eye slightly. Yennefer saw her looking and smiled softly. “All of them please,” she managed. And then maybe stay with me? Please? Except she didn’t say that part, she just willed Yennefer to somehow hear the thought telepathically.

“Do you want me to lie down with you?”

“Don’t push it Yennefer,” Tissaia growled, even though it made her head hurt. She needed to try and regain some control of the situation. Yennefer moved as though to stop petting her hair, and in spite of herself, Tissaia whimpered. She didn’t want the touch to stop. Wordlessly, Yennefer carried on.

“I’m not pushing it,” she said quietly, with a little irritation. “Just let your defences down a bit, Tissaia. I want to help you. Now do you want me to lie down with you?”

“Yes please,” Tissaia answered meekly. The idea of feeling Yennefer pressing up next to her, maybe even putting an arm around her, was enough to send her brain into overdrive. But she wanted it. Gods, how she wanted it.

“Good,” Yennefer said, and for once she didn’t sound smug or victorious or anything else she usually sounded when she was proved right. “Now I’m going to get those things, and in the meantime, go to the bathroom, brush your teeth, and... Well, don’t come back until you’re sure you won’t throw up in bed.”

Heat rushed to Tissaia’s cheeks, and she resisted the urge to pull the duvet over her head and never re-emerge. “Oh gods, is it that obvious?” she whimpered.

“Mhm.” Yennefer gave her a small smile. “Come on, up you get and go sort yourself out. The sooner you do that, the sooner you can come back to bed with me!”

By the time Tissaia had finished ‘sorting herself out’ as it was so tactfully put to her, Yennefer was already back in her bedroom with painkillers, a glass of water, a cold cloth for her forehead, a packet of plain biscuits, and an extremely sympathetic look. Tissaia figured she probably looked even worse than before, especially given that she’d had to hastily drag her hair back into a messy ponytail, and the strap of her top had slipped off her shoulder and she didn’t have the energy to pull it back up.

“Come on,” Yennefer smiled encouragingly, and Tissaia stumbled back towards the bed. She sat down heavily, taking the painkillers and glass of water from Yennefer, swallowing the tablets down and not bothering to feel embarrassed as a drop of water trickled from the corner of her mouth. Yennefer wiped it away with her thumb, then pulled the strap of Tissaia’s top back up onto her shoulder. It was surprising that she managed to do them without a hint of impropriety, no saucy wink or smirk or asking Tissaia whether she’d rather Yennefer remove her top altogether instead.

“Lie down,” Yennefer murmured and Tissaia did as she was told, no longer paying the slightest attention to awkwardness, or indeed any thought at all which wasn’t gratefulness or how awful she felt. Just walking to the bathroom had made her head pound even more intensely. She closed her eyes with a weak moan, sliding down beneath the covers.

“I know, I know,” Yennefer murmured, and climbed onto the opposite side of the bed. She slipped her legs beneath the covers and lay down slowly, seemingly trying not to jolt Tissaia or make her move any more than she already had.

Tissaia made a tiny, soft noise of pleasure as Yennefer slipped an arm around her, holding her lightly. Soft breaths ruffled her hair, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of Yennefer’s chest against her back. It was very, very soothing. In spite of the wretchedly painful throbbing in her head and the general feeling that her body was falling apart, she felt calm, and sleep quickly began to tug at her.


	9. Chapter 9

Tissaia had very carefully avoided mentioning her upcoming birthday to Yennefer, for fear that the younger woman might suggest something ridiculous like getting drunk together (which would always have been a no, but was even more of a no now that Tissaia couldn’t even think about alcohol without feeling nauseous), or breaking lockdown rules to organise a party at the flat (which would definitely result in her neighbours calling the police, not to mention Yennefer discovering that Tissaia didn’t actually really have any friends). Everything was going great, until she woke up on the morning of her birthday to an unusually friendly text from Philippa, wishing her happy birthday.

 _Shit_. In all the years they’d been friends, Philippa had never remembered her birthday. Not once. So to remember it now, when they hadn’t seen each other in over two months? Not a good sign. It meant there was every chance Philippa had told Yennefer, and, worse, ‘suggested’ how they could celebrate. Tissaia was well acquainted with how Philippa’s suggestions worked, not that they could rightfully be called suggestions at all. She wanted to pull the covers up over her head and pretend to be asleep for the rest of the day, thereby foiling whatever evil plan Yennefer and Philippa had concocted together.

Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. Plus, she was hungry. She crept to the bathroom, and half an hour later, freshly showered and with her hair tousled and still dripping from being roughly towelled dry, emerged to find that her bedroom, the hallway, and the kitchen were thankfully all free of both people and tacky birthday signage. They were also free of Yennefer, which Tissaia was quietly disappointed about, not that she’d ever admit it. But it was early, and although Yennefer had been doing better at rising before noon, there were still plenty of days when she didn’t.

She made tea and sat at the table to drink it, desperately swatting away thoughts about how much nicer it was when she had someone to talk to. They’d been living together for almost two months, and somehow there had been a gradual shift from wishing 90% of the time that Yennefer wasn’t there and everything was peaceful, to wishing 90% of the time that Yennefer was there and talking incessantly to her.

Yes, Yennefer had several – many – unhealthy and annoying habits, and there was the obvious problem that Tissaia was extraordinarily attracted to her, but most of the time she was an unexpected joy to be around. Although Tissaia would _never_ admit that. Yennefer’s ego didn’t need boosting any more.

She’d even thought about offering Yennefer a place to stay permanently, but the highly unpleasant experience of listening to her having sex all weekend was still lingering at the back of Tissaia’s mind. Not to mention the fact that she’d have to find a way to deal with her jealousy when Yennefer met someone, because there was no way she could refuse to let that person in the apartment, even if she did really just (whisper it) want to have Yennefer all to herself.

Tissaia tried to distract herself from that particular thought by reaching for a packet of biscuits and- what the fuck was she doing? Never mind, she took back everything she was considering about letting Yennefer move in permanently, because apparently her bad influence had rubbed off so much that Tissaia was actually considering eating biscuits for breakfast, instead of something with actual nutritional value. She put the biscuits down and backed away as though they were a fully armed nuclear warhead, and was reaching for the cereal when she heard the crashing noise which always heralded Yennefer’s entrance through the front door. Because she seemed incapable of entering the apartment like a normal person.

“Don’t come out, I’ve been for a run and I’m all sweaty!” Yennefer shouted, and alarm bells immediately began to ring. Yennefer didn’t leave the house unless absolutely forced to, and certainly not to go for a run at 9am. Something was going on, and Tissaia was willing to bet her entire apartment that it was something to do with Philippa inevitably telling Yennefer that it was her birthday. She went to the kitchen door, but Yennefer must have heard her footsteps and practically screamed “shower!!” before sprinting to the bathroom.

Well, that decided it. Something was definitely going on. She wanted to go and bang on the bathroom door and shout at Yennefer that whatever she was planning was not acceptable, but she couldn’t stop herself worrying that the younger woman might get upset. The few times she’d seen Yennefer looking sad or ashamed were more than enough to last a lifetime, and being the cause of that expression was way more than she could handle.

There was nothing for it, she’d have to go out and leave Yennefer to get on with whatever it was she was planning. Despite frequent – and annoyingly effective – puppy dog eyes, she hadn’t quite reached the point of wanting to share her daily walk yet, so it always gave her time to think about other things than her somewhat incorrigible flat-mate. Meaning that she forced herself to pay attention to things – like appreciating the blossom on the trees, or judging people who always put way too much rubbish out for collection because they couldn’t be bothered to just fucking recycle – instead of thinking about Yennefer. She’d just have to hope that her willpower would be strong enough to do the same when what she really wanted to do was worry about what she could possibly find when she returned.

Yennefer was singing in the shower when she walked past the bathroom, and Tissaia felt her heart melt a little bit. Okay, a lot. In fact, she was overwhelmed by such a strong urge to kiss Yennefer that it was a little bit worrying. Fortunately, there was a locked bathroom door between them, not to mention a healthy dose of Tissaia’s nervousness. Resisting the urge to barricade herself in her bedroom, she changed quickly into something more appropriate for walking and left quickly, closing the front door loudly enough for Yennefer to hear it. She always took the same route on her walks, so Yennefer should know exactly how long she had to sort out whatever she was planning.

It hadn’t escaped Tissaia’s notice that she was just _presuming_ Yennefer cared enough to try and do something for her birthday. Maybe she was wrong, and would feel completely stupid when she got back. She tried to focus on the rhythm of her feet hitting the pavement and ignore thoughts of Yennefer for a minute. If she could do one minute, then she could do two. And then maybe five, then ten. Where was that beautiful black and white cat she’d seen the other day? Could she complain to the council about the people whose front hedge was overhanging the pavement so much that she had to walk on the road to get past? Should she buy a new pair of trainers with better support for her ankles? What were Yennefer and Philippa planning? _Shit_. Well, she’d managed… Two minutes? That wasn’t good at all.

There was nothing for it, she’d just have to keep worrying about it for the rest of her walk. And possibly walk faster.

It was quiet when she got back, and Tissaia wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. She could hear Yennefer pottering around in the kitchen, but it certainly didn’t sound like the noise of someone feverishly trying to organise a surprise party. “I’m back,” she called, which felt alarmingly – but not uncomfortably – domestic. It was only a stone’s-throw away from ‘honey, I’m home!’, and Tissaia found she didn’t actually mind.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” Yennefer called back, and a little chill came over Tissaia. Her breath hitched. No, she would have to stay calm. Whatever Yennefer had planned, she would have to be calm and grateful. She couldn’t bear to be the cause of the younger woman looking disappointed or hurt. It took just two minutes to change her clothes, so to kill some more time she brushed her now-dry hair and put on a little makeup. Regarding herself in the mirror, she realised that she could probably stand to make slightly more of an effort with her outfit, so after a minute’s thought, she changed into a nice pair of jeans and a blouse which wrapped over her chest, exposing the tiniest amount of cleavage. Not that she thought Yennefer would want to look at her, but… Just in case.

Unable to kill any more time, Tissaia went to the kitchen, steeling herself as she opened the door. There was a minute before Yennefer realised she was there, and Tissaia was gifted the chance to observe her, completely natural and at peace. She had music playing, no doubt something modern which Tissaia didn’t recognise, and she was singing. Yennefer’s voice was surprisingly low; it reminded her of the raw, aching sensuality of Stevie Nicks, and Tissaia couldn’t help shivering. She was so distracted by Yennefer singing that it took her a second to notice everything else.

“Hey Tissaia!” Yennefer grinned when she caught sight of her, before she seemed to remember what was going on, and her face fell into a shy expression. She tapped her phone to turn off the music. “I… Philippa told me it was your birthday. I didn’t know, so I didn’t have a chance to really get you anything. This was the best I could do at short notice.”

Before Tissaia could respond, she turned away to reach for something on the bench, and turned back with a small cake on a plate. She placed it down on the table next to a fruit basket and a small pile of presents wrapped in brightly coloured paper. “Happy birthday Tissaia,” she smiled shyly, and Tissaia was sure she could feel her heart melting in her chest.

She was suddenly seized by the desire to hug Yennefer and not let go of her, and although a small part of her brain reminded her that it probably wasn’t the wisest idea, she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Come here,” she said softly, holding her arms out to Yennefer, and the younger woman stepped into them immediately. “Thank you so much, darling. This is the best present I could have asked for.”

Yennefer seemed to go weak in her arms, as though letting out a breath she’d been holding for hours. Tissaia supposed it was relief, and it touched her that Yennefer had been so worried about making sure she did things right. “Philippa said that I should do something big for you, but I didn’t think you’d want that. She’s a bitch and I know she was just trying to fuck with you.”

Tissaia pulled back, and cupped Yennefer’s cheek, stroking gently with her thumb. “You’re right. This is absolutely perfect, thank you Yennefer,” she murmured. Gods, her lips looked so warm and inviting in that shy little smile. Tissaia wanted to kiss her. Badly. She stroked her cheek again, her thumb just brushing Yennefer’s lower lip. The younger woman’s breathing hitched. She was acutely aware of Yennefer’s arms loosely around her waist, of the way their chests were pressed lightly together.

“Can I give you the rest of your present now?” Yennefer asked, her voice barely a whisper, her breath warm against Tissaia’s lips. Tissaia tried to answer, and found that her voice had dried up into nothing at all. She nodded, barely able to let herself hope for what she thought it could be. Yennefer leaned in, resting her hand on the back of Tissaia’s neck, and drew her into a soft, loving kiss. She’d never been kissed with so much tenderness and affection before, and Tissaia felt herself going weak. “Happy birthday Tissaia,” Yennefer murmured against her lips when they broke apart to breathe, chasing her words with the gentlest of licks, before taking her into another, deeper kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

There was a surprising lack of awkwardness when they eventually broke apart from the kiss.

Yennefer stroked her cheek gently, before pulling her into another hug. Tissaia held on, grateful for the opportunity to hide her face for a minute as she tried to exercise every ounce of self-control she possessed in order to not freak out completely. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to kiss Yennefer, or regretted it immediately – quite the opposite in fact, she kind of wanted to do it again – just that she hadn’t planned on revealing how she felt, possibly ever, but certainly not in the middle of her kitchen.

The steady, reassuring warmth of Yennefer’s body made it easier to stay calm, and she even managed a smile when gentle fingers began to toy with her hair. How did Yennefer seem to know what she needed better than she knew herself?

After a few more minutes – during which Yennefer seemed not the least bit annoyed, and simply kept holding her and petting her hair – Tissaia felt calm enough to step back from the embrace. She smiled at Yennefer, and Yennefer smiled back. “Thank you, Yennefer,” she said softly, and it felt like, for now, no more words were needed on the subject.

Tissaia sat down and tried to concentrate on her gifts. Ordinarily she hated presents; the feeling of sick anticipation as she wondered whether or not she’d have to pretend to be grateful for something awful and totally unsuited to her tastes was almost intolerable. But right now, her mind was almost entirely elsewhere. All she could think of was the fact that there were no alarm bells ringing in her head about the fact that she’d kissed Yennefer. Or rather, that she’d let Yennefer kiss her, and kissed her back. And more to the point, she may have even moaned into the kiss a little bit. That was most definitely the kind of thing which would normally have had alarm bells ringing.

Her forced calmness was quickly evaporating, her usual need for reassurance creeping in. “Yennefer...” she began, her voice a little strangled. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yennefer, this...isn’t one of Philippa’s jokes is it?”

To her surprise, Yennefer still didn’t look frustrated or sick of her. “No, Tissaia,” she murmured, weighting the words with honesty, “I would never do that to you. _Never_.” She met Tissaia’s eyes and held her gaze, refusing to look away lest it come across as a sign of dishonesty.

Tissaia wanted to believe her. Desperately. And why shouldn’t she? Yennefer had been honest with her from the start, even about the less desirable aspects of her personality. She nodded slowly, finally breaking the intense eye contact.

“Come on,” Yennefer encouraged gently, trying once again to distract her from worrying, “presents, Tissa.”

Tissa? She vehemently disliked people shortening her name, but when Yennefer said it, it sounded nice. Soft, warm.

Tissaia ran her fingers over the wrapping paper almost reverently; she’d never felt quite so cared for before. The wrapping paper itself was clearly for children – blue with cartoon dinosaurs, and pink with glittery fairies – but it made Yennefer’s efforts feel even more special. She’d done her best to make the most of a bad situation, and, really, wasn’t that what everyone was trying to do right now? The unexpected prickle of tears told her she needed to divert her thoughts, and quickly.

She swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in her throat. “Thank you Yennefer, you really didn’t have to do all of this,” she began, pausing and forcing herself to focus on her next words, “but I appreciate that you wanted to.” She reached for the first present and unwrapped it carefully. Inside was an adult colouring book. Looking up, she noticed for the first time that Yennefer looked nervous and somewhat regretful. Oh gods, was that what she, Tissaia, looked like all the time? If so, what did Yennefer possibly see in her?

“They’re supposed to be really good for stress,” Yennefer explained quietly, still looking nervous. Maybe waiting for Tissaia to smile, or say something at least. “I can take it back if you think it’s childish?”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Tissaia smiled, “I really appreciate the thought of trying to help me be less stressed, thank you Yennefer.” She flicked carefully through the book. It was filled with soothing geometric patterns and intricate floral designs, and she ran her fingers gently over one. Unbidden, a thought of how those winding vines would look as a tattoo around Yennefer’s thigh entered her mind, and she choked on her own breathing, hastily putting down the colouring book and picking up the next present to distract herself. It yielded a brightly coloured packet of coloured pencils clearly meant for children, and again Yennefer looked shy. “I’m sorry, they didn’t have any high-end ones or I’d have bought them,” she apologised, “I’ll find you some once, y’know, we have real shops again!”

Tissaia opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself at the last minute, resolute. She would graciously accept the gifts, and the planned future gifts. She _would_. Not quite trusting her words, she just smiled at Yennefer in what she hoped was a grateful way. Yennefer smiled back, a little of the nervousness seeming to leave her, and Tissaia felt a swell of pride. Again she wondered whether that was how Yennefer felt when she finally managed to break through Tissaia’s defences and make her laugh or smile.

“Keep going!” Yennefer encouraged with a sudden, bright giggle, gesturing to the two remaining gifts.

Tissaia carefully unwrapped the next one, pulling out a pair of truly hideous fluffy socks. “I... um...” she began, unsure of what the correct response was. “These are...”

Yennefer giggled again. “It’s okay, you can say what you’re thinking, Tissa! I know they’re awful, but it’s the law that every woman should own fluffy socks for when she’s relaxing in the house.”

Tissaia blinked uncertainly. The law? Presumably Yennefer was referring to some unwritten rules of womanhood that she was apparently unaware of. Still, aside from the fact that they looked embarrassing, the socks were very soft, and she thought that it would probably be okay to wear them as long as she didn’t have to actually look at her feet.

The last present was tiny, and seemed almost thinner than the paper wrapping it. Tissaia frowned. A photograph perhaps? But what of? She unwrapped it carefully, frightened of tearing whatever was inside, which was, after a minute, revealed to be a somewhat childish drawing of...some kind of fish? There was a speech bubble next to it saying ‘I’m yours’. Tissaia frowned, unable to make sense of the bizarre gift. “Yennefer...?” she began, looking up questioningly.

“I adopted a dolphin for you!” Yennefer grinned, as though the explanation was obvious. “It was kind of a joke really, after you forced me to watch that documentary about whales, but there weren’t any whales for adoption. So I got you the next closest thing!” She frowned slightly. “But you don’t have a printer, so I couldn’t print off the adoption certificate. So you got...well, that.”

Tissaia was quietly surprised that even a so-called joke present had the power to make her feel touched and cared for. “Yennefer, thank you,” she began, in an effort to fight off the lump in her throat before it swelled to tears, “it’s more than anyone else would have done, and I appreciate all of the presents and the thought you put into them. Thank you so much dear.”

Yennefer blushed, and looked for a terrifying moment like she was going to cry too. Then she forced herself to smile and indicated the fruit basket with a flourish of her arm. “I didn’t think you’d want loads of chocolate, so I got you fruit instead,” she said, “I tried to make it as unlike the fruit baskets people always get sent when they’re in hospital as possible. Well, in movies anyway. I don’t know if people do that in real life.” She chewed her lower lip for a few seconds, looking nervous again.

“Yennefer, I realise the absolute hypocrisy of the words I’m about to say, but please stop worrying! It’s okay, I promise. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me today, especially the part about not listening to Philippa trying to make you do something I’d hate.” Tissaia stood up, trying to move with slow grace and not the excruciating awkwardness she felt whenever she attempted to be seductive. She pushed the presents – carefully – aside, sitting on the edge of the table in front of Yennefer. “Let me thank you? And hopefully distract you from worrying so much?”

Yennefer nodded, seemingly at a loss for words, her eyes closing as Tissaia leaned down, cupping her cheek and kissing her softly. The kiss was slow, gentle, Yennefer making no move to deepen it, or push Tissaia into anything she wasn’t ready for. When they broke apart, both were smiling shyly, and there wasn’t a trace of awkwardness at the fact they were still barely touching even when it was clear they wanted each other so much.

“Hey Tissa, can we have birthday cake for breakfast?” Yennefer grinned wickedly. And even though she was evidently very excited by the idea, she still waited for Tissaia’s response before jumping up to get a knife.

“Yes, I think we should,” Tissaia smiled back, finding it surprisingly easy to throw caution to the wind (albeit a very small amount of caution into a very light breeze), “although nothing could taste as sweetly delicious as you, Yennefer dear.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with abusive parents (emotionally and verbally abusive). Please don't read on if this is upsetting or triggering for you. This chapter is not key to the storyline, and you won't miss out on any major plot details by skipping it.
> 
> If you need help and support, please reach out to your local or national domestic abuse charities, and know that you are not alone ♥

If Tissaia was being honest (not that anyone needed to know), she’d had more than a few slightly sinful fantasies involving Yennefer crying out her name. What she hadn’t planned on was Yennefer sounding terrified the first time she did it.

“Tissaia!” Yennefer called again, in a voice which made Tissaia’s blood run cold. She almost threw down her book and scrambled off the sofa, trying to determine where Yennefer’s voice had come from. Fortunately, it wasn’t an especially large flat, and she found the cause of her panic easily. Yennefer was stood at the open door, contorted into a strange position of both trying to hide herself and trying to block two people from coming inside.

She hadn’t even heard the door, but she supposed Yennefer had been waiting for a delivery – for she’d become somewhat obsessed with online shopping of late – and had opened it quickly. Not that it mattered any more, because it was clearly not a delivery-person on the other side.

Tissaia stepped closer, resting her hand on Yennefer’s shoulder to reassure her, and she felt the younger woman go almost boneless beneath her touch. “What’s going on?” she asked, with more authority than she felt. She hardly needed to admit it to herself, but somewhere along the way, Tissaia had fallen hard enough that she’d go to the ends of earth to protect Yennefer.

The unwanted guests were a man, who looked utterly incensed and as though he was about five minutes away from grabbing Yennefer by the wrist and dragging her away, and a woman bearing a passing resemblance to Yennefer, who looked unsettled but also resolved. Were these...Yennefer’s parents? And more to the point, had they come to take her home? Tissaia could hardly describe the feeling of sick fear which hit her at the idea of no longer having Yennefer around.

There was no answer to her question. Just Yennefer trembling and a thick silence between the four of them. “Sir, madam, would you mind taking a few steps back please,” Tissaia said firmly. “We need to keep 2m apart, and since we can hardly continue this conversation from halfway down our hallway, you need to be the ones to step back.” Tissaia wasn’t sure when she’d started referring to the flat as ‘ours’ and not just ‘hers’, but she didn’t mind, and she hoped that somewhere in her fear, Yennefer had heard it and felt warm inside.

“I don’t need to keep 2m away, she’s my daughter,” Yennefer’s father snapped. “Well, _step_ daughter,” he added nastily, looking at Yennefer as though she was some kind of slug.

If she’d ever doubted what Yennefer had said about her family life when she was a child, she certainly couldn’t now. She wished it was possible to go back in time, find young Yennefer, wrap her up in a blanket, and steal her away to live somewhere safe and loving. “Well I am not your daughter, so please oblige me by stepping back,” Tissaia said sternly, refusing to back down even an inch, despite the feeling that Yennefer’s father could easily pick her up by the shoulders and pin her to the wall.

From her left, she heard Yennefer’s shaking voice. “I’m not going with you. How did you even find me?” Tissaia wished she could hold Yennefer’s hand, but she last thing she wanted was to give her parents any more ammunition for complaints.

“Philippa told us,” Yennefer’s mother answered, speaking for the first time. “You neglected to tell us that your flat was damaged and you needed somewhere to live.”

Abruptly, as though it was a physical change, she felt Yennefer push past her fear and let her anger come through instead, protecting herself. “I hadn’t spoken to you in two years, I wasn’t going to start just because of that,” she snapped, “I’d rather have slept in the gutter than come ‘home’ to you.”

“No. You should have come to stay with us,” Yennefer’s mother said resolutely.

“ _Last time I saw you, you told me you wished we lived in a time where you could still trade me for a couple of chickens or a cow_!!” Yennefer all but screamed. Tissaia squeezed her shoulder again, trying to be reassuring. She didn’t want to interfere, but she couldn’t bear the idea of leaving Yennefer alone to face this. And Yennefer had called out for her, which surely meant she wanted her to be there?

“I assure you I’m quite happy for Yennefer to keep living here with me for as long as she needs a place to stay,” Tissaia began, as placatingly as possible, even though every instinct was screaming at her to slam the door, lock it, and maybe call the police.

“She has a place to stay, with us. That’s where she belongs,” Yennefer’s mother said at once, as her father growled, “how do we know you’re not a witch?”

Tissaia wanted to laugh. She didn’t know how that fitted in at all, but she was used to entitled men crying foul when they didn’t get their way.

“Stop it!” Yennefer cried, “just stop it! I’m not coming with you, and that’s final. I’m happy here, and Tissaia is–” Tissaia squeezed her shoulder again reassuringly, wondering when she and Yennefer had learned to communicate without words “–Tissaia is happy for me to stay. Does what I want count for nothing?”

“No. Less than nothing, in fact,” Yennefer’s father sneered, “we need you at home, so home is where you’ll be. Someone needs to clean and cook.”

“What am I, Cinder-fucking-ella?” Yennefer cried shrilly, “I don’t see why you could possibly need someone to cook and clean when you refuse to get a fucking job and just sit at home all day, giving you plenty of time to cook and clean for your-fucking-self!”

Tissaia could feel the fear and hatred and anxiety rolling off Yennefer in waves. She squeezed her shoulder again, trying not to get swept up in the sound of Yennefer’s heaving breaths, feeling herself beginning to breathe more heavily too when she concentrated on Yennefer’s panic. “Yenna, Yenna,” she murmured, trying to seize Yennefer before she fell over the edge. She wanted to wrap the younger woman up in her arms and hold her tightly, smother her in blankets, fetch her tea and chicken soup. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” she breathed. Like Yennefer, she was trying to both hide behind the door and yet stand firm in front of it. Her soft words were only for Yennefer, and she had no intention of letting anyone else hear them.

Yennefer’s father stepped forward, and Yennefer whimpered beside her.

“ _No_ ,” Tissaia commanded, in a voice which rang with ice and steel, and for a moment everyone froze, shocked at how much power she could summon up for such a small woman. “Yennefer, go back inside, you don’t deserve to have to listen to this any more,” she said, with deadly calm, “and if I’m not back in five minutes, call the police.”

Yennefer looked hard at her, and Tissaia gave a small nod. She didn’t have a plan, but she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep the younger woman safe. Yennefer gave a watery, grateful smile, brushed her hand over Tissaia’s shoulder, and turned away. Tissaia listened to her steps, waiting until she was safely inside the living room with the door closed before she carried on.

“Mr and Mrs Vengerberg – I assume? We’ve not actually been introduced despite you turning up at my door for a screaming match – in case you’re not aware of the law, let me explain to you. Yennefer is an _adult_. She can make her own decisions and she has her own rights, which, no matter how much it may annoy you, are entirely independent of your wishes. You cannot compel her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, including come ‘home’ with you.” As Tissaia paused for breath, Yennefer’s father looked as though he was about to speak, but she held her hand up with so much authority that somehow he fell silent again.

“Remember what I told Yennefer, sir. If I’m not back inside in five minutes, she’ll call the police, so I really don’t think you want to delay me from speaking right now.” She could feel a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she fought it back. The feeling of power was immense, and she felt a little drunk on it. “Now as you clearly don’t know the rules, let me break it down for you. Yourself and your wife are one household. Yennefer and I are another. The only way Yennefer is allowed to move into your household is if there’s been a breakdown in her current living arrangements, which let me assure you, there hasn’t been. She is safe, well-fed, and cared for, and nothing I’ve heard so far suggests she would be _any_ of those things with you.”

Confused, chaotic energy was building up inside her, and Tissaia gripped the door in an attempt to ground herself and concentrate on the matter at hand. She needed to _do_ something, to scream or punch something or- or kiss someone furiously.

“Neither Yennefer nor I are backing down from this, Mr and Mrs Vengerberg. You’ve had your say, and now it’s time for you to leave. If you come back again, I _will_ call the police. Now go,” she commanded, meeting their glares with her own, the chaotic energy forcing its way out in an irritated tapping of her fingers against the door. “You have one minute to leave or I will shout for Yennefer to call the police and report domestic abuse. And yes, emotional and verbal abuse is classed as domestic abuse. You absolutely disgust me.”

Perhaps it was the barely-concealed hatred in her voice, perhaps it was being, in some small way, confronted over their behaviour, or perhaps they just knew a losing battle when they saw one, but Yennefer’s parents turned away without a word. Tissaia watched them go, breathing hard, and when she was convinced that they weren’t going to turn back, she closed the door.

She’d barely had time to turn around when she felt Yennefer fly at her, arms wrapping around her tightly as though she couldn’t get close enough, their lips meeting in a deep, bruising kiss. Hands moving over every inch of each other, they kissed until they couldn’t breathe any more, then clung to each other, foreheads pressed together, panting.

“Sorry,” Yennefer murmured, with a soft, shy giggle, “you getting angry – not at me – is the sexiest thing ever. And you protecting me. My hero!”

Tissaia cupped Yennefer’s cheek, kissing her again, softly but no less meaningfully. “Don’t apologise, I wanted that too. Now come on, you deserve a nest of blankets, a hot drink, a nice film, and endless cuddles.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who skipped the last chapter, a brief synopsis: Yennefer's abusive parents turned up at Tissaia's flat to try and make Yennefer move in with them. Tissaia protected Yennefer and sent them away. And an apology: I'm really sorry that I wrote about something which is upsetting to you, I hope you're okay, and I hope you're getting any support you need ♥
> 
> This chapter describes Yennefer's feelings while she is talking to Tissaia about her past, but does not describe any actual acts of domestic abuse. There is one line where Tissaia imagines Yennefer disclosing her experience of domestic abuse and not being believed, or having her experience minimised. If there are any other parts of this chapter you think I should include in this warning, please let me know!

They talked for what felt like hours, but not in an unpleasant way. It felt freeing to Yennefer to finally be able to talk about things she’d kept walled up inside for so long, and she knew, from the little Tissaia had given away about her own childhood, that she’d found someone who would understand. At times she leaned into Tissaia’s reassuring touch, and at others she paced restlessly, unable to bear the idea of human contact as she purged her mind and soul of the unpleasantness of her past. Throughout it all, Tissaia was there, steadfast, her eyes betraying how much she empathised with Yennefer’s pain, but never wavering, never shying away from the details. Yennefer had never felt so cared for, so believed.

Eventually, there were no more words. Yennefer sank down beside Tissaia, feeling hollowed-out but lighter too, and after a moment she wondered why Tissaia hadn’t moved closer. Her heart broke a little when she realised Tissaia was respecting her space and waiting for permission. “Please hold me?” she asked, in a voice more fragile than Tissaia had ever heard her use.

Immediately, Tissaia pulled Yennefer into her arms, holding her tightly, tucking the younger woman’s head beneath her chin as strong arms wound around Tissaia’s own waist, holding just as tightly back. “You’re safe,” she murmured, “I promise.” She wasn’t always good with words, but she needed to say something, and the tiny contented sound Yennefer made in response told her that it had been the right decision.

They stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, until Yennefer laughed softly that her arms were going numb from the slightly awkward position. She sat up slowly, and Tissaia was glad to see that her eyes were dry, and she looked much calmer than she had done before, if a little pale. “Thank you Tissaia,” Yennefer said, and contained within those three simple words was an ocean of gratitude and love which words alone could never fully express.

“Of course, dear,” Tissaia smiled, and reached out to touch Yennefer’s cheek, pausing at the last moment, before her fingers made contact. Yennefer moved into her touch immediately. “Yennefer,” Tissaia began suddenly, surprising even herself, “I know we need to talk about where we’re going, but-”

Yennefer rested her finger on Tissaia’s lips, silencing her. She leaned in, bestowing the gentlest, most understanding kiss Tissaia had ever experienced, then replaced her finger quickly in case Tissaia was planning on using those free seconds to keep talking. “We don’t have to talk about anything,” she said soothingly, “this – you – are worth waiting for, no matter how long it takes. I promise, Tissaia.” She kissed Tissaia again, this time without moving her finger away, which made Tissaia laugh softly. “If you genuinely want to talk, we can, but please don’t make yourself. We have all the time in the world.”

Tissaia stuck out the very tip of her tongue and licked Yennefer’s finger just enough that she squealed and pulled her hand back. The low, throaty, and utterly genuine laugh Tissaia offered her made Yennefer’s heart flutter and her insides clench. Her eyes were still sparkling with mirth when she finally voiced the thought which was the reason for needing Yennefer’s finger removed from her mouth, and the residual trace of happiness was what stopped her voice from trembling. “Are you sure you don’t mind, dear? I know what I want, please don’t think I’m going to change my mind about you, because I’m not. It’s not that. I just need…”

“Time,” Yennefer filled in gently. “I know, and that’s okay. May I keep kissing and touching you while you decide?” She wouldn’t have asked, but Tissaia’s expression was so hungry and needy that she couldn’t help herself.

Tissaia nodded furiously, and linked her fingers with Yennefer’s again, stroking the back of her hand lightly with her thumb. “I’m so glad I met you, Yenna,” she murmured. “When I thought you were going to get taken away from me, I...I realised just how much I adore having you here. I knew already, of course I did, but that just brought it home to me.” A loud sniff made her look up from their joined hands, and she saw Yennefer looking at her tearfully. “Oh no, oh angel, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you cry any more today!”

Yennefer noticed the new pet name but didn’t draw attention to it; she snatched it from the air and held it against her chest, to fully appreciate later. “It’s okay, I promise,” she said with a watery smile, trying to reassure Tissaia. “I love it when you call me Yenna. Really love it. Everyone usually calls me Yen, so Yenna is something special just for us.” She shifted on the sofa slightly, resting her head on Tissaia’s shoulder. “You’re wonderful and hearing you talk about how much I mean to you makes my heart sing, I _promise_ Tissaia, but please could I have a tiny rest from emotions for a while?” she asked shyly.

Tissaia brought her hand up, stroking Yennefer’s hair lightly. “Of course love, whatever you need. Does that include me not talking about how furious I am that Philippa told your parents where you were?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“Tissaia, don’t!” Yennefer snapped, then closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak to you like that. I owe you some more of an explanation.” Tissaia went to move away from her so she could pay full attention to Yennefer’s story, but Yennefer gripped her tightly. “Don’t move,” she whispered, “I feel safe here.”

Tissaia felt her heart break a little more, and gathered Yennefer back up into her arms. “I’m here, I’m right here Yenna,” she soothed. “Just take your time, and you don’t have to tell me.”

“Philippa would never have told them if she knew how bad it really was when I was growing up,” Yennefer began. Tissaia clenched her fist, trying to let go of the image in her head of Philippa telling Yennefer she was being overdramatic. She had no evidence it had even happened, but it seemed a Philippa-like thing to do. “No, Tissaia, it’s okay,” Yennefer soothed, covering Tissaia’s fist with her hand. “I promise, you don’t need to be annoyed. When I did talk to Philippa about stuff, she was surprisingly supportive. But I didn’t tell her as much as I told you earlier.”

Tissaia frowned. “Still, surely it was enough that she’d know you wouldn’t want your parents coming looking for you? What’s the piece of the puzzle I’m missing here, Yenna?”

A humourless laugh left Yennefer’s mouth. “Oh, you’ll love this,” she said in a tone which very clearly implied the opposite was true, “they’re her landlords. She gets a discount on rent in exchange for supplying details of what I’m doing.” She must have felt Tissaia stiffen, because she hastened to explain. “It’s okay, really. I know you’re looking for a reason to hurt her, but there isn’t one. You really think someone like Philippa wouldn’t jump at the chance to double-cross people? She’s pretending to help them, collecting her reduction in rent, in exchange for information which I supply her. It’s always stuff they can look into and verify, so they know she’s telling them the truth, and it’s at just the level of embarrassment and salaciousness they expect from their dear, darling, disappointment daughter.” Yennefer smiled tightly. “For six months of the year, she keeps the money she gets taken off her rent. And for the other six, she gives the money to me directly.”

Tissaia’s frown had deepened so much that her eyebrows were almost meeting. “Yenna, this sounds like the plot of a film…” she began. The words she wanted to say danced infuriatingly around her brain, disappearing like mist every time she got close to them. “Are you sure… I mean… With respect, are you sure Philippa is telling the truth?”

Yennefer seemed to consider her answer, which only served to deepen Tissaia’s mistrust, sensing that she was formulating a defence. “I know it seems like the kind of trick Philippa would pull, but I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, outside of this situation, I wouldn’t so much as trust her to post a letter for me, but I think even she realises this isn’t something to joke about.” Yennefer squeezed Tissaia’s hand. “If you don’t trust her, trust me. It’s okay, I’m okay, I know what I’m doing. I promise, Tissaia.”

Tissaia rested her chin on the top of Yennefer’s head, and held her a little tighter. “I don’t have to like it though, and I don’t. I’m so glad you’re here and safe.” A memory of the earlier fear of losing the younger woman crept through her, and suddenly she needed to kiss Yennefer again, again, as though the world would end if she didn’t. “Please can I kiss you, Yenna? I need to prove to myself that you’re here with me,” she asked quietly.

Wordlessly, Yennefer climbed off the sofa so she could reposition herself straddling Tissaia’s lap, and Tissaia moved forward a little so Yennefer’s legs could wrap comfortably around her. “I’m here, I’m right here,” she breathed, before kissing Tissaia deeply, both holding onto each other as though they’d disappear if they didn’t.


	13. Chapter 13

Yennefer ran into the kitchen, almost skidding into the table and having to grab onto a chair to steady herself. “Tissaia! We can go out again!” she cried, grinning, holding up her phone and waving it around excitedly. “Where do you want to go? Oh gods, can we get McDonald’s? Please? Wait, have you ever even been to McDonald’s? Can I take your McDonald’s virginity? Oh fuck, I want a Big Mac!”

Tissaia had to laugh at how adorably much Yennefer looked like a child on Christmas morning. “Yenna, slow down,” she chided, but her excitement was infectious, and there was nothing in the world she wanted more than for Yennefer to keep being excited. “What do you mean we can go out again?” As it happened, she’d heard the news on the radio while she was in the shower, but she couldn’t bear to ruin Yennefer’s good mood.

“We’re allowed to go places again! Like McDonald’s! And shops, and cinemas, and... museums!” Yennefer cried, suddenly realising she ought to suggest something Tissaia actually liked. “Do you want to go out today?”

Tissaia longed to change the subject, but she knew from experience that things always went much more smoothly with Yennefer when they were both honest and clear about their feelings. “Maybe... maybe not today?” she asked shyly, “everyone will have the same idea and it’ll be a lot. I’m not great with crowds.” Tissaia turned away, embarrassed at her own stupidity, and almost jumped a foot in the air when Yennefer barrelled into her from behind. Pulling Tissaia around by her shoulder, she hugged her hard, tucking the elder woman’s head beneath her chin.

Tissaia was incredibly conscious of every inch of Yennefer’s body pressing to hers. Long arms wrapping around her neck, Yennefer’s breasts against her own chest, she felt safe and not a little – inappropriately – turned on. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Tissaia asked, her voice slightly muffled against Yennefer’s soft skin.

“So you know it’s okay,” Yennefer murmured, trying to breathe in the scent of Tissaia’s hair without seeming too creepy. She’d noticed that since they’d been spending more time cuddled up together, Tissaia had begun wearing perfume, and had swapped her medicated shampoo for something with a sweet, delicate fragrance. Of course, like everything else about Tissaia, it was expensive and grown up, full of florals and oils which Yennefer couldn’t identify, but enjoyed breathing in. It made her a little embarrassed about her own shampoo, childishly scented like strawberry, and which only cost £1. Still, she wasn’t with Tissaia because of how nice her hair smelled, and she made a mental note to mention later that Tissaia didn’t have to change herself just because they were...whatever they were.

“We can go out whenever you feel comfortable, and if you don’t then we won’t,” she breathed soothingly. “I ordered some fabric online, and I’ve made us both a couple of face masks, so if and when we do go out, we can be safe.” Yennefer reached down, resting her fingers beneath Tissaia’s chin and tilting her face up. “There’s no rush, I promise.”

Tissaia leaned up, kissing her softly, just a gentle brush of their lips, before she let out a harsh breath, all her fears seeming to melt away. “How do you manage to make me feel like everything is okay so effortlessly?” she asked with wonder in her voice. Cupping Yennefer’s cheek, she kissed her again, harder this time, a tiny noise of pleasure escaping her and getting lost in the kiss. “You’re wonderful, Yenna.”

Yennefer smirked against her lips, “I know.” She took Tissaia’s hand, leading her into the sitting room. The room had come to bear unmistakable signs of Yennefer’s presence – a cardigan discarded over the back of a chair, glossy fashion magazines rubbing shoulders with Tissaia’s elegant coffee table books – and it felt more like a home than it ever had before. They sat down together on the sofa, and although it was clear that Yennefer’s intention was for them to discuss her newly-admitted fear of crowds, Tissaia couldn’t help her mind drifting back to the time Yennefer had straddled her on the sofa and all but started grinding against her.

So this was what sexual frustration felt like, Tissaia reflected. It felt as though every cell in her body was aching to be closer to Yennefer, to feel her, to hear her, to see her, in the most intimate way possible. She shook her head; it absolutely wasn’t the moment for such thoughts, she needed to get a grip of herself and deal with the problem later, with her own fingers. Although it was becoming very hard to remember why she’d decided not to have sex with Yennefer yet.

“Want to talk?” Yennefer asked, resting her hand gently on Tissaia’s thigh, and even though the touch wasn’t meant in a sexual way, Tissaia felt like her body might melt with need. She slid her hand around the back of Yennefer’s head, tangling her fingers in the thick, dark hair, before she pulled her into another kiss. Yennefer kissed her back with equal passion, their lips moving together wetly, occasionally pulling back to nip at Tissaia’s lip. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want to talk?” she asked with a soft smile.

Tissaia ran her thumb over Yennefer’s lower lip, appreciating its fullness, focussing on how desperately she wanted Yennefer’s mouth to be used for things other than talking. She knew she was skating on thin ice, barely able to push aside her filthy thoughts for long enough to answer. “There’s not much to tell,” she said quietly, and the low thrum of arousal in her veins kept her distracted from feeling too embarrassed. “Crowds make me nervous. Very nervous. And when we’ve spent months being told it’s not safe to go outside, suddenly it is now? I don’t trust it...” Yennefer squeezed her thigh encouragingly. “I know we can’t stay inside forever, and I don’t want to, not really. But... maybe when I’m ready, you’ll come with me? And- and hold my hand?”

“Oh Tissaia!” Yennefer breathed softly, “of course I will! I’ll hold your hand so tight, and I won’t let go, it’s okay. My friend Triss is the same, she gets overwhelmed sometimes too, and I’m used to looking after her, I know what to do.” She cupped Tissaia’s face in both hands, looking lovingly into her eyes. “You’re safe with me, Tissa. I promise.” Seeing the hunger in her gaze, she let their lips meet again, Tissaia taking control and deepening the kiss. “You’re needy today,” she teased when they broke apart for air, running her fingers down Tissaia’s arms, deliberately keeping her touches in neutral places, wanting the elder woman to set the pace and tone.

“I am,” Tissaia said quietly, suppressing a moan, “I want to, but it just doesn’t feel like quite the right time.” That said, if it wasn’t the right time, she didn’t know what would be, because it felt as though she was moments away from abandoning her resolve, climbing onto Yennefer’s lap, and grinding on her like a pillow. Maybe it was the arousal making her feel reckless, or maybe she just needed to get out into public where she couldn’t ride Yennefer’s thigh until she came, but before she knew what she was doing, Tissaia said, “I’ve changed my mind, let’s go out! Maybe we could go for a walk together?” Nowhere too busy, she wasn’t feeling _that_ reckless. “I just need a shower first.”

If Yennefer knew that Tissaia had already had a shower that day, she didn’t say anything, which made her feel a tiny bit uncomfortable that the younger woman had probably guessed it was just an excuse. She felt embarrassed for half a second as she left the room, until she remembered how much she wanted to grind on Yennefer’s lap, and the arousal hit her again with such force that she almost whimpered aloud.

Tissaia had never been more grateful for the lock on her bathroom door. Assured that it was the only place in the whole flat that Yennefer couldn’t disturb her, and with the hiss of the shower to disguise any noises, she found herself naked, soaked from the shower, her back against the cool tile and her hand sliding down over her stomach.

Parting her legs, she pressed her lips together to stifle a whimper as she slipped a finger between her folds, finding herself wet in a way which definitely wasn’t from the shower. Not that she could have failed to be wet after the sinfully explicit thoughts which had been racing through her overheated mind. The idea suddenly occurred to her that Yennefer might touch herself in the shower too (it would certainly account for why she always seemed to take about two hours just to wash her hair), and her legs went weak.

Tissaia began to rub her clit, unable to find the patience to tease herself. She never pictured Yennefer being teasing when she touched her (and she pictured it a lot). “Gods, Yenna,” she breathed, trying desperately to make herself believe that the fingers between her legs weren’t hers at all. She imagined Yennefer pressing kisses to her clit, wicked tongue darting out from between full lips to drive her wild with slow, teasing lapping, and hard, fast licking.

She was impossibly close already. It was almost embarrassing how easily she came when she was thinking about Yennefer, but since the young woman had (unknowingly) given her more orgasms in the past few months than she’d probably ever had in her life, she couldn’t find it in herself to complain too much.

Rubbing herself wasn’t enough. Tissaia pushed two fingers inside herself, thrusting punishingly hard, the heel of her hand grinding roughly against her clit. That was how she imagined Yennefer making her come the most. And she was going to come again, eyes tight closed, chest heaving as she panted, pounding herself and imagining the younger woman’s fingers inside her. She imagined Yennefer pressing a sweetly teasing kiss to her clit, and suddenly she was crying Yennefer’s name without even realising it, shoving herself onto her own fingers as she came.

Leaning heavily back against the wall, Tissaia tried to regain control of her breathing, wondering how the hell she was going to keep her hands off Yennefer when they went out.


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey Tissaia,” Yennefer smirked as she walked into the sitting room again, hair dried and dressed for a walk. She really needed the smirking to stop, like Yennefer was privy to some embarrassing truth about her. “How was your shower?”

Tissaia sat down on the sofa, making a concerted effort not to let her earlier thoughts spill into her mind again. It certainly wouldn’t be practical if she could no longer sit on her couch without being overwhelmed by sinful thoughts, and it gave her pause for thought about having sex with Yennefer in areas of the apartment other than the bedroom. The last thing she wanted was to get distracted from making dinner by remembering the feeling of Yennefer spread out on the table, clenching around her fingers. Fuck. _Fuck_.

“It was fine,” she answered, trying to keep her face neutral, sensing that Yennefer was fishing for something, “are you still happy to go for a walk?”

Yennefer grinned widely. “Do you often say my name in the shower?”

Tissaia leapt off the sofa like she’d been burned. She tried to breathe and calm herself before she said anything, knowing that stammering would make her seem more suspicious, as though jumping up like she’d sat on hot coals hadn’t already made her seem suspicious. “The water went cold,” she said, the most plausible lie she could come up with, “I assumed you’d turned the tap on in the kitchen or something, so I was cursing you.”

“Mmm,” Yennefer said non-committally, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “Yes, that’s exactly what it sounded like.” She swept her cascade of dark hair over one shoulder and began braiding it messily, her gaze never leaving Tissaia’s. If Tissaia didn’t know better, she’d have said Yennefer looked almost _hungry_ , and for the first time she realised that if she had been overheard, Yennefer might now be as aroused as she had been. It was a distractingly sexy thought, and one she shouldn’t let herself indulge in if she actually wanted to leave the house at all.

“What else would I have been doing?” Tissaia asked, standing with a hand on her hip, trying to seem calm and casual. Yennefer raised her eyebrows, as though the implication should have been obvious. And it was, especially since her assumption was correct. Once again Tissaia regretted opening her mouth at all. She felt her face flush hotly, and she knew that was as good as admitting it.

“I’m glad to know you think of me in that way,” Yennefer said with a smug smile. “Now I know I’m not the only one.” She pulled her trainers out from beneath the coffee table – where Tissaia hadn’t even noticed they’d been stashed – and began to lace them up, still smirking to herself.

Tissaia felt as though her legs might give way beneath her. What the hell did that mean? Was Yennefer admitting that she’d been fantasising about her too? Was it a joke to fluster her? (It was working). Or was Yennefer suggesting she was aroused by her own body, which would seem unrealistic if it was anyone else, but it was Yennefer and almost everything about her was unexpected?

And more to the point, why was she even freaking out? It wasn’t a secret any more that they were attracted to each other. She needed to learn how to deal with being teased, since it was evidently something Yennefer enjoyed doing. “Ha ha,” Tissaia said as dismissively as she could manage. “I’m going for a walk whether you’re coming or not.”

“I’m coming. Not quite in the way I’d like to, at least not yet. But I think that’ll change sooner rather than later,” Yennefer purred, running the back of her fingers across Tissaia’s cheek, lightly skirting her lips. Tissaia was seized by the sudden urge to throw Yennefer down on the sofa and fuck her until she couldn’t speak, and the force of her desire surprised her. When they got home, she decided, if she was still in the mood – and Yennefer was too, of course – she’d take her to bed and make both of their dreams come true.

She wasn’t normally so confident in her sexual abilities – she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had sex – but she needed Yennefer so badly that she couldn’t even feel nervous. She’d be cared for, and loved, and Yennefer wanted her too, just as much; it was safe to be herself without worrying. And although it had been a long time, she knew her...technique...wasn’t disappointing. Even Philippa had been impressed, and Philippa had slept with a lot of women. Not that she wanted to think about Philippa right now.

Yennefer’s hand slipped into hers, and Tissaia briefly forgot everything else. It felt so right. They hadn’t been out anywhere together yet, and holding hands on the sofa didn’t have the same impact as this. She wondered whether it was possible for her heart to burst from love.

“Is this okay?” Yennefer asked, squeezing Tissaia’s hand lightly. “The holding hands part, and the going out part? If you’ve changed your mind, we can stay in and...watch nature programmes.” She began to hum a tune, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Tissaia looked completely blank. “Oh come on, Tissa, surely you know it? ‘You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals, so let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel’?”

Tissaia stared at her, wide-eyed. “I’m- I’m never watching that channel again,” she stuttered, “oh _gods_. But yes, both things are okay, as long as you never mention that song again.” She pulled Yennefer into an embrace suddenly, holding her close and burying her face in one strong shoulder. “Don’t let go?” she asked, her voice trembling. The thought of going outdoors had hit her without warning, and even though she’d been making regular trips to the supermarket to buy food, this was different. There would be people, possibly lots of people, celebrating the relaxing of restrictions by ignoring the rules and being unsafe. The idea was terrifying, and even more than that, she was scared of putting Yennefer in harm’s way.

Wordlessly, Yennefer held her, stroking her hair softly, until she felt Tissaia’s grip loosen a little. “Sorry...” Tissaia murmured, blushing, as she stepped back, “it just got real all of a sudden. I’ll- I’ll be okay. But promise you’ll hold my hand? And not let go?” She wanted to hide her face, but one of the many things Yennefer had taught her was that it was okay to be vulnerable, that she wouldn’t be loved or respected any less because of it.

Yennefer took Tissaia’s hand again, and brought it to her lips, kissing every knuckle gently. “The moment you’ve locked the door, I’ll grab your hand and I won’t let go of it until we’re home again. We’ll be one of those annoying couples who won’t let go of each other and make everyone walk on the road to get past them.”

Tissaia managed a watery smile. “And you won’t be annoyed if I change my mind and want to come home?” She didn’t think she’d ever been looked at with so much love and understanding, and if there were any lingering doubts about how suitable Yennefer was to be her girlfriend, that expression extinguished them all for good.

“Of course not, Tissa. I have a place in mind, we won’t go far.” Somehow, her soft smile communicated more than her words did, and Tissaia knew immediately what she was thinking of. “Come on darling. I’m going to encourage you just a little, but tell me if it’s too much, okay?” She rested a hand on Tissaia’s elbow, gently encouraging her out of the room and towards the door. “I’m right here,” she murmured soothingly, pausing as Tissaia stopped to take a deep breath, “we can take it slow, love.”

With a force of will Yennefer could actually feel, Tissaia managed to get herself out of the door and lock it, and true to her promise, the moment she’d zipped the keys safely in her pocket, Yennefer took her hand and held it tightly. Tissaia blinked at her surroundings in surprise, as though she’d been expecting something to go wrong the moment she stepped outside.

Neither spoke until they were outside the apartment block. “How do you know Philippa?” Yennefer asked, sensing that there might be a story behind it, and hoping that would be enough to distract Tissaia. “You seem like...” she hesitated, searching for the words, “unlikely friends.” She squeezed Tissaia’s hand, knowing that constantly asking if she was okay would get annoying, and Tissaia squeezed back.

“‘Unlikely friends’ is an interesting euphemism for ‘better suited to mortal enemies’,” Tissaia said with a genuine laugh. The sun was warm on her face, and everything was green and vivid and thriving, and she was overcome with a sudden rush of gratefulness that she was alive. Not caring who was watching, Tissaia stopped, pulled Yennefer to her, and kissed her passionately right there in the middle of the street. Every instinct told her to look away shyly when they broke apart to breathe, but instead she looked up into Yennefer’s eyes, smiling softly. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life,” she breathed, stroking Yennefer’s cheek gently. “And I’m going to do much more than kiss you once we’re home again,” she added in a low voice, smirking at how quickly Yennefer’s expression changed from loving to ruined.

“Now, back to Philippa,” Tissaia continued cheerfully, with a smug smile. She grabbed her hand again and started walking, pulling Yennefer along slightly when it took her brain a few moments to catch up. “We were housed together at university, so it was a friendship of convenience more than anything else, until we found friends on our own courses. Being ridiculously drunk and dancing together on a table at the student union bar, screaming that we’d belong to our college until we died has a way of bonding people together, which I guess is the point.”

A quick glance told her that Yennefer was, unsurprisingly, open-mouthed at the idea of her being quite so drunk, let alone dancing on a table. “Credit where it’s due, she did teach me to relax,” Tissaia admitted. “And...a few other things too. Yenna, I know it’s uncouth to talk about an ex with one’s new partner, but I want to be honest. I don’t trust Philippa not to bring it up when she’s bored and wants some drama. I slept with Philippa when I was a student. She’s the only person I’ve ever been with, actually.” Yennefer squeezed her hand, encouraging her. “It wasn’t anything serious. She was between girlfriends and I was worried that when I finally found a woman I liked, I wouldn’t know what to do. I knew there was no chance of there being any feelings between us, and that Philippa would be brutally honest if I wasn’t great in bed. So it was worth the risk. It was just a handful of times, years ago now.”

It was hard to walk and talk and look at Yennefer’s face all at the same time, without tripping over or walking into something, which was probably a good thing. It allowed Tissaia to concentrate on speaking without worrying how Yennefer was looking at her.

“I slept with her too,” Yennefer said lightly, after a minute. “We were both ‘between girlfriends’ as you put it, and bored, and horny. There was nothing in it, I promise.”

Tissaia was surprised to find that she didn’t feel threatened. Yennefer wasn’t with Philippa, and she didn’t want Philippa. Yennefer wanted _her_. She was surprised at how easy it was not to be jealous, especially when she could look into Yennefer’s eyes and see the truth any time she needed reassurance. It didn’t escape her notice that she not only had Philippa to thank for bringing Yennefer into her life, but also for ensuring that when the time came, she could be reasonably confident of her skills in bed.

Yennefer slowed their pace when they reached a small convenience store, kissing Tissaia’s nose and telling her to wait outside, pulling a face mask from her handbag and putting it on before disappearing into the shop. In the universal habit of shy people left alone in public, Tissaia pulled out her phone, smiling at the photo of her and Yennefer which she’d set as her lock screen.

_I never thought I’d be saying this, but thank you for giving me Yennefer_ , she messaged Philippa, her cheeks heating at how mushy she sounded.

_Did you guys finally bang?? Thank fuck x_

_I immediately regret saying anything now. Have a nice day Philippa._

_Don’t be like that, Tiss. Sorry. I’m glad things are going well, really. You need to lighten up, and Yen needs someone to ground her. You’re a good match x_

_Thank you Philippa x_

_Does that mean you’ll come on a double date with me and Sheala? X_

_In your dreams. On second thoughts, no, I know what your dreams are like; keep me out of them!_

Tissaia was surprised to realise that she was smiling, enjoying the gentle banter with Philippa in a way she never had before. Perhaps it was just another of the benefits being with Yennefer gave her – the ability to enjoy, or at least tolerate, conversation with people she mostly had nothing in common with.

“What are you looking so suspiciously happy about?” Yennefer teased, her voice close to Tissaia’s ear, following the question up with soft kiss on the side of her neck. She was carrying a canvas bag, but made no attempt to discuss what she’d been buying. Tissaia slipped her hand into Yennefer’s as they started walking again, for once actually looking forward to the surprise.


	15. Chapter 15

Yennefer chose a patch of deliciously warm sunlight and pulled a red checkered picnic blanket from her bag to spread on the grass. Tissaia was beginning to realise why Yennefer always carried such a huge handbag, although she assumed (and dearly hoped) that the blanket wasn’t something which lived in there permanently. Her fingers twitched, and she ached to grab hold of Yennefer’s bag and give it a good sort out, but she didn’t. Partly because she didn’t want to ruin the relaxed mood, and partly because she had a not-unreasonable suspicion that she’d find about three years’ worth of receipts lining the bottom of the bag, and that might be enough to shatter her new, slightly more chilled attitude.

Yennefer sat down, and with an uncharacteristically carefree smile, Tissaia lay down on the blanket, hands beneath her head, face turned up to the sun like a flower. She really was unbelievably beautiful, and for a moment Yennefer just stared at her, unable to comprehend that someone like Tissaia really wanted her. Sitting there in the sunlight, watching Tissaia, surrounded by the gentle sounds of nature, Yennefer felt calmer than she ever had before. A breeze caressed over them gently, and she moved closer to Tissaia, not wanting her to get cold. Seemingly almost unconsciously, Tissaia shifted a little closer too. As she did, her shirt slipped up slightly, exposing a sliver of pale skin, and instinctively, Yennefer touched her there, almost reverently. It took a few seconds, but Tissaia took a deep breath and concentrated on relaxing and accepting the casual touch. If she was going to take Yennefer to bed – and she had every intention of doing so – she needed to be comfortable with being touched. And anyway, Yennefer’s touch was soft and affectionate and in no way unwelcome.

“Good, that’s it,” Yennefer murmured lovingly, perhaps feeling Tissaia’s body relax, or perhaps her internal struggle was written on her face. Slowly, she slipped her fingers up a little beneath Tissaia’s top, stroking and lightly grazing with her nails, smiling as Tissaia seemed to melt beneath her touch. “Gods, you’re exquisite,” she breathed, and then, before Tissaia could get too embarrassed, “you know, I still can’t believe this place is so special to both of us.”

Tissaia closed her eyes, a feeling of complete and utter peace washing over her as she lay there with Yennefer at her side. “Me neither,” she said softly, although it broke her heart to think of their younger selves, a decade apart, both desperately seeking out quiet and safety. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, think about that now. They’d found what they always craved, together, and that was what mattered. Tissaia focussed on the feeling of Yennefer’s touch on her skin, then kicked off her shoes, shifting on the blanket slightly so she could rest her bare feet in the grass.

They stayed in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the simple pleasure of being outdoors in the fresh air on a beautiful day. The gentle, rippling whispers of the trees, and the warmth of the air, began to work on her, and Tissaia felt drowsiness creeping over her. She was always able to speak more freely when she was close to sleep, the way some people did when they were drunk. “Yenna, what do you believe in?” she asked around a poorly-stifled yawn, “I mean, well, I guess I mean do you believe in magic?”

Yennefer plucked a handful of grass and sprinkled it on Tissaia’s bare stomach, giggling when Tissaia lazily swatted at her with one hand. “Do you feel it too?” she asked after a minute, her serious, hushed tone at odds with her laughter, “the magic here? I thought I was just imagining it. It’s always felt safe to me, but never quite like this. Maybe it only happens when we’re here together?” It sounded ridiculous even to her ears. Her cheeks flooded with heat, and she was glad Tissaia had her eyes closed. “I felt it last time we were here too.”

“After we’d argued?” Tissaia asked. She reached down to where Yennefer’s hand had settled on her stomach once again, and linked their fingers, comforting them both. She didn’t want to remember that day and what they’d almost lost. “I felt it too. It’s stupid, but I thought maybe that was what helped us patch things up.”

Yennefer thought about it, remembering the feeling that they were tentatively reaching out towards each other. “I agree,” she said quietly, not wanting to dwell on how close she’d almost come to a life without Tissaia. It was too much to even think about. She could sense the atmosphere edging away from the happy, relaxed mood she’d planned, and grabbed it with both hands to stop them descending into melancholy. “Do you know what day it is?” she asked brightly.

Tissaia opened one eye, her face painted with the familiar expression of wariness at the prospect of something unknown and unexpected. “I know exactly what day it is, and since I wasn’t aware it was special, I must have missed something. So tell me,” she said, not quite an outright demand, but close to it. Yennefer knew better than to tease her. Suddenly Tissaia sat up sharply, panic instantly replacing wariness on her face. “Oh, gods, it’s not your birthday is it?”

Yennefer had to smile at her, just a little. The idea that she could already be getting ready to blame herself for not somehow telepathically finding out the date of Yennefer’s birthday without being told was just peak Tissaia. She reached out, stroking the other woman’s cheek gently. “No, shhh Tissa, it’s okay,” she murmured soothingly, watching as Tissaia’s expression slowly relaxed. “It’s not my birthday. We’d _definitely_ be getting McDonald’s if it was. No, it’s the six month anniversary of when I moved in.”

“Oh,” Tissaia breathed, almost completely at a loss for words. She’d never pictured Yennefer being the kind of person who thought about such mundane things as dates of significant events, unlike Tissaia and her entire datebook, like some kind of 80s secretary. How had she not noticed this one?

Yennefer’s touch on her cheek became just a little bit firmer, drawing her out of her own head. “I can see you overthinking, Tissa. Stop it. It’s okay!” She smiled. “Can you stop worrying for two minutes while I get things ready?”

Overcome with a rush of confidence, Tissaia smiled nonchalantly. “I might be able to if you give me a kiss first,” she smirked, and moaned softly as Yennefer pulled her into a deep kiss, their arms winding round each other. “Wow,” Tissaia murmured breathlessly as they broke apart, “I hope I never get used to what you do to me, Yenna. I want you to affect me like this every time we kiss.” She shifted a little on the blanket, in the way Yennefer had come to realise meant she was trying to pretend she wasn’t desperately aroused.

“I want that too,” Yennefer said, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from Tissaia’s kiss-swollen lips and slightly messy hair. It wouldn’t do to climb on top of Tissaia right here and be arrested for public indecency. That would certainly put a damper on the day, and also Tissaia’s plans to take her to bed when they got back. And Yennefer had _no_ intention of jeopardising that when she’d been hoping for it for weeks.

She busied herself with pulling bowls, spoons, and glasses out of her handbag, and then turned her attention to her canvas bag. Out came a punnet of strawberries, a carton of cream, and a bottle of sparkling wine, glittering with condensation. She could see Tissaia watching her with barely-disguised adoration as she arranged the food and poured the wine. “Happy six month friend anniversary,” she smiled shyly when she was done, and then, because Tissaia was looking at her with an expression suggesting she was about to cry from happiness, she added, “sorry it’s probably all a bit warm by now!”

Tissaia laughed, and a single tear slid down her cheek, but she dashed it away and kept on smiling. “Yenna, I love you,” she breathed.

Yennefer felt her mouth actually fall open, which was not how she’d ever imagined herself responding to someone admitting they were in love with her. But Tissaia? Tissaia was perfect and beautiful and intelligent and sensible, everything Yennefer wasn’t, but somehow she still wanted her. She felt quite justified in being shocked. “I can’t believe you waited until I’d laid everything out to say that. Now I can’t get up and kiss you without knocking over the wine and putting a knee in the strawberries!” Focus, Yennefer, she reprimanded herself sternly. There were more important things to say. “I love you too, Tissaia. Gods, so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”


End file.
